When two people loved each other they worked together always, two against the world, a little company. Joy was shared; trouble was split. You had an ally.

You have to give others the opportunity to love who you love. If they don't accept it, it's their loss.

Writers are great lovers. They fall in love with other writers. That's how they learn to write. They take on a writer, read everything by him or her, read it over again until they understand how the writer moves, pauses, and sees. That's what being a lover is: stepping out of yourself, stepping into someone else's skin.

Without solitude, Love will not stay long by your side.

Can't go on singing the same theme, 'cause baby, can't you see, we've got everything going on? Every time you go away, you take a piece of me with you.

Spiritual Love is born of sorrow. . . . For men love one another with spiritual love only when they have suffered the same sorrow together, when through long days they have ploughed the stony ground buried beneath the common yoke of a common grief. It is then that they know one another and feel one another and feel with one another in their common anguish, and so they pity one another and love one another.