When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.
LOVE, WHEN WE LOVED NOT ENOUGH
Falling in love consists merely in uncorking the imagination and bottling the common sense.
Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
Each moment of a happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life.
moment, happy, worth, love, age, common, life