this reminds me a philosophy book named the process of the aesthetic development of evil. and i could only remember the name well and that should be helpful. the Father's love to Florence is kind the like the evil love, and i can't help feeling some beauty in it. not everyone lived or living or to live in this world born with the right to pursue love, and to defend love inside, some sticked to the extreme, some destroyed the grace of the daffodil. also, i thought, maybe it's the heart-breaking and breath-taking revolt that polish the sin, and make it sparkling as the so-called true love, it's a kind of human being though :)