The way they parted, I am not sure, if they were ever really in love, perhaps infatuation, as Quill is real hot and talented, but not love. No tears? No one brought to their knees in grief?
Unless you can think when the song is done No other is left in the rhythm;Unless you can feel when left by one That all men else go with him;Unless you can know when upraised by his breath That your beauty itself wants provingUnless you can swear, “For life, for death!” Oh, fear to call it loving!
The way they parted, I am not sure, if they were ever really in love, perhaps infatuation, as Quill is real hot and talented, but not love. No tears? No one brought to their knees in grief?
Unless you can think when the song is done No other is left in the rhythm;Unless you can feel when left by one That all men else go with him;Unless you can know when upraised by his breath That your beauty itself wants provingUnless you can swear, “For life, for death!” Oh, fear to call it loving!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning