I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say. They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundations, and one is so easily bruised, so sift wounded, one falls to the first barbed word.
( Daphne du Maurier )
[ Rebecca ]
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