Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do... but how much love we put in that action.
Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.
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
All happiness or unhappiness solely depends upon the quality of the object to which we are attached by love.
LOVE, WHICH WE ARE ATTACHED BY LOVE