When you have really exhausted an experience you always reverence and love it.
Love means to love that which is unlovable; or it is no virtue at all.
The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.
Sympathy constitutes friendship; but in love there is a sort of antipathy, or opposing passion. Each strives to be the other, and both together make up one whole.
Friendship often ends in love; but love in friendship-never.
You say that love is nonsense....I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache orrheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.
In love, self-love is always at risk.
Love lives on hope, and dies when hope is dead; It is a flame which sinks for lack of fuel.
Love is the extra effort we make in our dealings with those whom we do not like and once you understand that, you understand all. This idea that love overtakes you is nonsense. This is but a polite manifestation of sex. To love another you have to undertake some fragment of their destiny.
That's the nature of women, not to love when we love them, and to love when we love them not.
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