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“At the end, in Harry’s handiwork, there’s nothing sentimental about love, no sunlit clouds and glory notes—it’s a substantial, earthbound connection, grounded in effort, kindness, and decency. Learning to love, Harry liked to say, is really about learning to live. Perhaps everyday affection seems a small facet of love. Perhaps, though, it is the modest, steady responses that see us through day after day, that stretch into a life of close and loving relationships.”
― Deborah Blum, Love at Goon Park: Harry Harlow and the Science of Affection

“You were the seed and the leaf and the fruit.
You were the earth and you were the root.

You were the song in the echoing dark.
You were not the snake. You were never the rock.

You were the needle and bark, and you were the river.
You were not winter. You were fresh water.

You were not locked door or slammed door or rattle.
You were not metal. You were not empty bottle.

You were treetop and grassland and night sky and star.
Oh you were warm, you were rain, you were air.

You were the oak leaf and honey and clover
and you were forest and you were my mother.

You were the shore where no crocodiles are.
You were not wire. You were not wire.

- Monkey Writes a Poem About His Mother”
― Clare Shaw, Towards a General Theory of Love