We float like Ophelia down the stream of our mind in the garden of philosophy. Her death was poignant and reeks, in representation, of late 19th Century idealism, her death is beautiful and speaks of the romantic view of a newlywed with her prosaic beauty being destroyed by marriage. The garden of her heart would be full of love but should not destroy her. There is the incredible idealistic, romantic view of love destroying a heart that is pure. Garden plants would surround a fair maiden of wedded bliss in the garden of her heart. We stream along with her in our heart like the earthly flow of love is Sin. Everything gets all so horribly tangled up with nature equalling emotions to the point where we can barely rationalize our behaving. Love should be the most natural gift of all not an emotion from Hell. The love of nature is from God.
