There’s something terribly tragic about unrequited love. Some have even committed suicide over it. Yet in a sense what could be more romantic? An “untried” love is virtually without limits precisely because, never really having begun, there’s been no time for disillusionment to set in. The beloved—frequently distant, uninterested, unavailable, or unapproachable—can remain an object of indefinite idealization.
A mighty pain to love it is,
And ’tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain. ~ Abraham Cowley