Man in particular regards himself to be a lion of strength and independence. Yet he becomes a puppy under the love that destroys selfhood and makes us all the same. He so often feels in control of love, seeing it as a tool for his skillful hands, believing it a game. Yet love comes to control him increasingly, and relentlessly, until it dictates his every move. He is proud of his ability to shatter alleged mysteries with the power of reason. Yet, to him, both women and love remain total mysteries - mysteries so overwhelming they have conquered him utterly, for he submitted to them long ago.
Woman, on the other hand, sees herself as modest by nature, earthy, with feet on the ground, unlike her male counterpart. Yet have you noticed how she makes not the slightest objection when man promotes her to the position of goddess? For when a man loves a woman she becomes for him the greatest of all things. He sets her up on a pedestal, making himself naught before her, and offering no less than his life. Does she feel a pang of conscience about this untoward attention? Does she refuse it? On the contrary, she feels insulted if man doesn't lay himself at her feet, crying over her infinite beauty and absolute power.
Yes, love is truly incredible, but more incredible still is our ignorance of it. For all our intellectual attainments, love remains notably unexplained. If humankind has a worst failing, it would have to be our ignorance about the true nature of love. The lover knows not what love is, nor exactly what it is he loves, nor why he loves. Indeed, our ageless profound wisdom tells us not to question love . . not to spoil what is already perfect. If ignorance about love is your dignity, then much good may it do you. I will be content as a failure in your eyes, vainly holding to my thought. For if love is a mystery, it is so only to those who refuse to think.