• Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones.

    He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.

    It would be impossible to "love" anyone or anything one knew completely. Love is directed towards what lies hidden in its object.

    You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

    Will you love me in December as you do in May,
    Will you love me in the good old fashioned way?
    When my hair has all turned gray,
    Will you kiss me then and say,
    That you love me in December as you do in May?

    Love is all this but truly it is the poetry of the senses.