Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.
Love is a fault; so be it.
Love is a flame to burn out human wills, Love is a flame to set the will on fire, Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.
Being in love is a very strange thing.
A life without love is like a year without spring.
They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.
When love is at its best, one loves So much that he cannot forget.
One does not fall "in" or "out" of love. One grows in love.
The heart wants what it wants. There's no logic to these things. You meet someone and you fall in love and that's that.
Perfect love is perfectly patient.
Love is like smiling, it never fades and is contagious.
Love is friendship set to music.
Love is two minds without a single thought.
Distance is temporary, but our love is permanent. This may be the last time I see you, but if you keep me in your heart, together we shall be eternal; if you believe, we shall never part.
The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.
It would be impossible to "love" anyone or anything one knew completely. Love is directed towards what lies hidden in its object.
Real love is a pilgrimage. It happens when there is no strategy, but it is very rare because most people are strategists.
Love is a lot like a backache. It doesn't show up on x-rays, but you know it's there.
Love becomes greater and nobler in calamity.
Who knows? Maybe they’re right. Maybe we are driven crazy by our feelings. Maybe love is a disease, and we would be better off without it. But we have chosen a different road. And in the end that is the point of escaping the cure: We are free to choose. We are even free to choose the wrong thing.
Love is every bit as violent and dangerous as murder.
Mysterious love, uncertain treasure, hast thou more of pain or pleasure! Endless torments dwell about thee: Yet who would live, and live without thee!
But I believe in love, you know; love is a uniquely portable magic. I don’t think it’s in the stars, but I do believe that blood calls to blood and mind calls to mind and heart to heart.
Love is illogical, love had consequences--I did this to myself, and I should be able to take it.
Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you.
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