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Love is real, real is love.

Love is a friendship set to music.

The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.

Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.

Love is now, it's always. All that is missing is the passion, the <>.

And now we're apart and you're just some stranger who knows all my secrets, all my family members, all my quirks and flaws and it doesn't make any sense.

There is no you and I, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.

Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue, a wonderful living side by side can grow, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky.

We must get beyond passions, like a great work of art. In such miraculous harmony. We should learn to love each other so much to live outside of time...detached.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

I like not only to be loved, but also be told I am loved.

The only thing we never get enough of is love, and the only thing we never give enough of is love.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not