Love, an ethereal construct, transcends the boundaries of epoch and element, hovering clandestinely in the interstices of the human experience. It is a potent force revered by poets and philosophers alike yet eludes quantifiable definitions. As Plutarch observed in his archaic musings, "love is a serious mental disease"; thus its very title belies an enigmatic paradox concurrently bewitching and confounding.
In the modern age, every digital text, every tweet and missive, attempts to distill this dusky potion into measurable increments—but alas, the cosmos shrugs, and love’s transcendence remains irreducibly temporal and delightfully wild. Consider the ancient Sybil, whose clocks chimed not for chronology but for sentiments unmeasured and firmly ageless.