When she loves you, she loves you to pieces.
The mere presence of a single flower—in my case, immediately, a single iris in a squat, narrow-necked vase—changes an entire room. How does one flower do this? By not doing anything.
The greater the effort, the more self-serving the result. Love is an action, not an effort. We are told to take our instruction in how not to make an effort from field flowers.
You are a prince. Act like one.
Be patient. It’s a slow process, that of expunging old habits and incubating new ones. The end is in the means. Slow is true. Slow is sure.