And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets read more

And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose and it's always daisy-time.

It has taken me all my life to understand it is not necessary to understand everything.

It has taken me all my life to understand it is not necessary to understand everything.

She who makes her husband and her children happy, who reclaims the one from vice, and trains up the other read more

She who makes her husband and her children happy, who reclaims the one from vice, and trains up the other to virtue, is a much greater character than the ladies described in romance, whose whole occupation is to murder mankind with shafts from their quiver or their eyes.

Give love, and love to your life will flow.

Give love, and love to your life will flow.

Those who love deeply never grow old.

Those who love deeply never grow old.

We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first.

We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first.

It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now read more

It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself) --to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart. When I look back on the pain of sex, the love like a wild fox so ready to bite, the antagonism that sits like a twin beside love, and contrast it with affection, so deeply unrepeatable, of two people who have lived a life together (and of whom one must die) it's the affection I find richer. It's that I would have again. Not all those doubtful rainbow colors.

We all suffer from the preoccupation that there exists ... in the loved one, perfection.

We all suffer from the preoccupation that there exists ... in the loved one, perfection.

For the memory of love is sweet, though the love itself were in vain. And what I have lost of read more

For the memory of love is sweet, though the love itself were in vain. And what I have lost of pleasure, assuage what I find of pain.