Love that is fueled solely by feelings will suddenly find itself out of gas on a long road with no gas stations.

Hate feeds on itself, while love will always find itself fed.

Of course love is blind; it keeps me blind to myself.

If I have not been both soothed by love and on the opposite extreme left devastated by it, I will never understand its power nor respect its majesty.

Love is a perpetual journey that is extraordinary because it will never find itself terminated by a destination.

Have we ever thought to consider that the need to be loved grows because of its absence, but that love also grows because of its presence? And does this not speak to the power of love?