That's next worse to eternally discussing love.

Why it is that two girls seem never able to talk together half an hour without lugging in that threadbare subject as if it were the one most important thing in the world, I don't understand." "Well, isn't love the most important thing,--to women ?" asked Phebe, sitting down on the floor to nurse the fire, her thin muslin making a little ripple of pretty lightness around her.
"No, it isn't," replied Gerald.

"It may be to some few perhaps, but certainly not to all women.

It isn't to me.

It's one thing; not every thing; and not even the best thing.