Love is a Bohemian Child

Quand je vous aimerai?
ma foi, je ne sais pas,
peut-être jamais, peut-être demain,
mais pas aujour­d’hui, c’est cer­tain.

One day, he dis­cov­ered that she loved him just as much as the day she left, and that every new man she sought for com­fort was just anoth­er attempt to replace him; he was unlike any­one she had ever met before. But there was noth­ing that could be done; the pain had left him cold and unmoved.

So enough about love, he said, for love is often fick­le and unre­quit­ed.

And it’s only being on both sides of such an idea that allows him to accept this.

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