The intellectual is always showing off; the lover is always getting lost. The intellectual runs away, afraid of drowning; the whole business of love is to drown in the sea. Intellectuals plan their repose; lovers are ashamed to rest. The lover is always alone, even surrounded with people; like water and oil, he remains apart. The man who goes to the trouble of giving advice to a lover gets nothing. He's mocked by passion. Love is like a musk. It attracts attention. Love is a tree, and lovers are it's shade.