But the stuff mixed in it is not love, but a defiling of it. That is a bit
of the slander it suffers for a time, from the presence in life of sin.

Weeds with their poison, and snakes and spiders with their deadly venom,
draw life from the sun. That is a bit of the bad transmuting the good,
pure sun into its own sort. The sun itself never produces poison or any
hurtful thing.

Love itself is never mean, nor bad, nor selfish. The man who truly loves
the woman whom he would have for his own lifelong, closest companion is
not selfish. He does not want her chiefly for his own sake, but for her
sake, that so he may guard and care for her, and her life be fully grown
in the sunlight of the love it must have. And, if you think that is
idealizing it out of all practical reach, please remember that true love
will steadily refuse the union that would not be best for the loved one.

What is the finest and highest love that we know? There are many different
sorts and degrees of love revealed in man's relation with his fellow:
conjugal, the love between husband and wife; paternal, the love of a
father for his child; maternal, the mother's love for her child; filial,
the love of children for father and mother; fraternal, or brotherly,
meaning really the love of children of the same parents for each other,
both brothers and sisters--the same word is used for love between friends
where there is no tie of blood; and patriotic, or love for one's country.
And under that last word may be loosely grouped the love that one may have
for any special object, to which he may devote his life, outside of
personal relationships, such as music or any profession or occupation.

This is putting them in their logical order. Though in our experience we
know the father-and mother-love for ourselves first; and then in turn the