He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.
Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
The past is behind us, love is in front and all around us.
Love never reasons but profusely gives; gives, like a thoughtless prodigal, its all, and trembles lest it has done too little
People who are sensible about love are incapable of it.
Love is not singular except in syllable.
Love doesn't sit there like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all of the time, made new.
Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love; it is the faithless who know love`s tragedies.
Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke.