The heart is not a mirror, but a creator. Romeo, to Juliet, is not himself a recreated, illusory object of love, ordinary to any woman. But not to his mistress. Everyone who has loved once knows that even the beloved's place becomes an enchanted place, a temple, a holy land: in love, things cease to be themselves. Even Gilgamesh fears being transformed into a wolf or a mole, "whose desire is always beyond his grasp," due to Ishtar's love. When "our" love is not reciprocated, we discover that our love is a purely objective vitality, so immense that it overrides "our" will. It appears as an external intervention, Cupid's arrow in Apollo's heart. Only fools and behaviorists believe that experiments with white rats can give them the golden keys to the temple of the human heart. These are the followers of the doctrine of precision, and 1+1=2, the doctrine that Ptah knows best, and Enkidu also knows best.