A woman's heart is said to be a fickle, shallow thing. Poets, artists, scholars, priests, they've all said the same thing. I will admit that a female heart can be just such a creature...but that would be the heart of a girl.
The heart of a woman is something altogether different. A woman's heart has many layers, many rooms. It bears the scars of life and living, of loving and never being loved in return. It knows great joy, and as all things light must carry a shadow of equal size, it knows great pain...and it knows them intimately.
She may not choose to be wise, or to have this depth of feeling, yet there it is. She may try to run from it, yet it will follow.
And there she is.