Answer: Summarize I know it's your mother, but it's still beautiful, a love like that. It ends up making you want it. There will never be another woman to love you like her, in life. This, this sar. It was sure. But I didn't know it. It was only in my forties that I began to understand. It is not good to be loved so much, so young, so early. It gives you bad habits. We believe it happened. We believe that it exists elsewhere, that it can be found. On account on it. We watch, we hope, we wait. With maternal love, life gives you at dawn a promise that it never keeps. We are then obliged to eat cold until the end of our days. After that, every time a woman hugs you and hugs you, it's just condolences. We always come back to yell at our mother's grave like an abandoned dog. Never more, never more, never more. Adorable arms close around your neck and very soft lips tell you about love, but you know. You went to the spring very early and drank it all. When you feel thirsty again, you may throw yourself in all directions, there are no more wells, there are only mirages. From the first light of dawn you have made a very close study of love, and you have documentation with you. Everywhere you go, you carry the poison of comparisons with you and you spend your time waiting for what you have already received. I am not saying that mothers should be prevented from loving their young. I'm just saying it's better that mothers still have someone else to love. If my mother had had a lover, I wouldn't have spent my life dying of thirst by every fountain. Unfortunately for me, I know myself in real diamonds. ROMAIN GARY, The Promise of Dawn, Part One, Chapter 4, O Editions Gallimard, 1960
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