...people liking you or not liking you is an accident and is to do with them and not you. That goes for love too, only more so.
She said the reason that love is so painful is that it always amounts to two people wanting more than two people can give.
I knew I had done something awful. I had killed love, before I even knew the enormity of what love meant.
When you fall in love, it is spring no matter when. Leaves falling make no difference, they are from another season ...
shadows of love, inebriations of love, foretastes of love, trickles of love, but never yet the one true love.
In every question and every remark tossed back and forth between lovers who have not played out the last fugue, there is one question and it is this: Is there someone new?
Love . . . is like nature, but in reverse; first it fruits, then it flowers, then it seems to wither, then it goes deep, deep down into its burrow, where no one sees it, where it is lost from sight, and ultimately people die with that secret buried inside their souls.