Love is blind, suitability is utilitarian, marriage is nothing more than a self-deceiving gamble.


Choosing what you like will eventually be pierced by reality, choosing what is suitable is doomed to be avenged by desire, and marriage itself is a false proposition.
Either pick up bones in the ruins of hormones, or lick blood in the cracks of the calculator, both are dead ends.
Romanticists will ultimately drown in the trivialities of daily life, while realists are forever trapped in midnight dreams, choosing either is digging your own grave.
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