You can’t leave love to luck. Love first came with leaping ecstacy.
But when this passes … as it always may … Love, too, will go unless you make it stay. For there come times when hearts Are deaf and dumb, when nothing wakens, Nothing yearns or burns. … These times must come; They are not accident, nor do they prove Your choice of love was wrong. They come with every lover, Every loving bond-mother or father, Sister, brother, mate. Always, at times, Love seems as cold as hate … Cut off forever, by malignant fate. But it’s not so. Such chilling of the heart’s As much a part of life as thirst or hunger. … It’s the natural ebb of our affection’s flow. Such times must come for all who love, And when they come you must know why, And how to meet them or your love will die. You can’t leave love to luck, You must at times build love. Though lacking all delight, As blind men weave a pattern in the night, Counting each gentle gesture, Spacing word and smile, groping through darkness Of both heart and head, as blind men fumble With their unseen thread. Until at last from out of the dull Gray warp and woof of service, unto God and men, There’s the shine of that sweet wonder Which you had thought had passed … And, once again, you feel God’s beautiful design.
(Author unknown, quoted in Louis H. Evans, Your Marriage, Duel or Duet? Westward, New Jersey: F. H. Revell Co., 1962, p. 72.)