One would always want to think of oneself as being on the
side of love, ready to recognize it and wish it well --but, when confronted
with it in others, one so often resented it, questioned its true nature,
secretly dismissed the particular instance as folly or promiscuity. Was it
merely jealousy, or a reluctance to admit so noble and enviable a sentiment in
anyone but oneself?
- Shirley Hazzard
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