It is not love that should be depicted as blind, but self-love.

Self-love is the instrument of our preservation.

Love is not blind, If it is why can I see you

If you love her, you cannot see her . . . because love is blind.

Love has features which pierce all hearts, he wears a bandage which conceals the faults of those beloved. He has wings, he comes quickly and flies away the same.

Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination.