"And for the youth, quick, let us strip for him
The thyrus, that his watching eyes may swim
Into forgetfulness; and, for the sage,
Let spear-grass and the spiteful thistle wage
War on his temples. Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
We know her woof, her texture; she is given
In the dull catalogue of commen things.
Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,
Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,
Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine -
Unweave the rainbow, as it erewhile made
The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade."
Keats: Lamia, L225-238

I wanted to make a point of which I have been pondering, passionately, of late and this extract was simply perfect. In it's simplicity: Love deciphered is Love destroyed.

How enchanting?