"It was not enough that she should be the one virile friend, the equal
comrade, the nearest and deepest companion of the life which she had
linked to her own. The star which would have her perfect and which she
had learnt not to resist would also have her remain the lover of whom
one wearies not. Friendship without love, like love without friendship,
is but a half-happiness that makes men sad. They enjoy the one only to
regret the other; and, finding but a mutilated joy on life's two fairest
hill-tops, they persuade themselves that the human soul can never be
perfectly happy.