Love surrounds you like steam in the shower. You can’t see the individual drops, but you get warm. And wet. And clean.
Love stands opposed to death. It is love, not reason, that is stronger than death.
Love should bring joy, it should grant a person peace, but here and now, it was bringing only pain.
Love should be a tree whose roots are deep in the earth, but whose branches extend into heaven.
Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.
Love ought to stop on both sides, don’t you think, simultaneously? But it won’t – that’s the devil.
Love only reveals its pleasures to those who mingle in one their thoughts, their fortunes, their sentiments, their souls, their lives.
Love of truth shows itself in this, that a man knows how to find and value the good in everything.
Love of life is born of the awareness of death, of the dread of it.
Love meant that you care for another person’s happiness more than your own, no matter how painful the choices you face might be.
Love may be or it may not, but where it is, it ought to reveal itself in its immensity.
Love makes you want to be a better man. But maybe love, real love, also gives you permission to just be the man you are.
