Love is most nearly itself when here and now cease to matter.

Love is most nearly itself when here and now cease to matter.

She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned
romance as she grew older - the natural read more

She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned
romance as she grew older - the natural sequence of an unnatural
beginning.

If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, I love read more

If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, I love her for her smile . . . her look . . . her way Of speaking gently . . . for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and, certes, brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day- For these things in themselves, Beloved, may be changed, or change for thee- and love so wrought, May be unwrought so.

Once in awhile, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.

Once in awhile, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.

To love is to place our happiness in the happiness of another.

To love is to place our happiness in the happiness of another.

You say that love is nonsense....I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a read more

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 or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.

Romance is the poetry of literature.

Romance is the poetry of literature.

There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the infinite passion of life.

There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the infinite passion of life.

How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved!

How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved!