I fall in love all the time. With music, film, poetry. A smile. A bum. But rarely the whole of someone.

I am very interested and fascinated by how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.

We have reached a verdict, your honor. This man’s heart is deficient. He loves, but his love is worth nothing.

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it — to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once.

It seems to me now that the plain state of being human is dramatic enough for anyone; you don’t need to be a heroin addict or a performance poet to experience extremity. You just have to love someone.

Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes; Being vex’d a sea nourish’d with lovers’ tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worst, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.

Even when I’m dead, I’ll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.

All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.

How I wish you could see the potential,
The potential of you and me.
It’s like a book elegantly bound
But in a language you can’t read just yet.

I just haven’t found anyone that I want to spend long periods of time with.