Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.

In love the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Love is always being given where it is not required.

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.

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.

Love is the hardest habit to break, and the most difficult to satisfy.

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

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.

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