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The art of love ... is largely the art of persistence.

There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.

It is easier to be a lover than a husband for the simple reason that it is more difficult to be witty every day than to say pretty things from time to time.

In everything, satiety closely follows the greatest pleasures.

An isolated outbreak of virginity is a rash on the face of society. It arouses only pity from the married, and embarrassment from the single.

What we anticipate seldom occurs: but what we least expect generally happens.

If you judge people, you have no time to love them.

Warm weather fosters growth: cold weather destroys it. Thus a man with an unsympathetic temperament has a scant joy: but a man with a warm and friendly heart overflowing blessings, and his beneficence will extend to posterity.

One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because love -- any love -- reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.

I started out with nothing. I still have most of it.

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

Love is only the game that is not called on account of darkness.

To love another person is to see the face of God.

Beauty itself is but the sensible image of the infinite.

To be able to say how much love, is love but little.

A kiss is but a kiss now! and no wave of a great flood that whirls me to the sea. But, as you will! we'll sit contentedly, and eat our pot of honey on the grave.

What is passion? It is surely the becoming of a person. Are we not, for most of our lives, marking time? Most of our being is at rest, unlived. In passion, the body and the spirit seek expression outside of self. Passion is all that is other from self. Sex is only interesting when it releases passion. The more extreme and the more expressed that passion is, the more unbearable does life seem without it. It reminds us that if passion dies or is denied, we are partly dead and that soon, come what may, we will be wholly so.

Pleasure is a shadow, wealth is vanity, and power a pageant, but knowledge is ecstatic in enjoyment, perennial in frame, unlimited in space and indefinite in duration.

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.

Love cures people, both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.