Where there is love there is life.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

The degree of loving is measured by the degree of giving.

I love that feeling of being in love, the effect of having butterflies when you wake up in the morning. That is special.

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war love is a growing up.

Gestures, in love, are incomparably more attractive, effective and valuable than words.

There is only one kind of love, but there are a thousand imitations.

Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.

If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.