“What love we’ve given, we’ll have forever. What love we fail to give, will be lost for all eternity.”

Love creates an “us” without destroying the “me”.

Even after centuries of human interacting, children still continue to rebel against their parents and siblings.

When we give ourselves in love we become our most vulnerable. We are never safe. We become open to disappointment and hurt.

I believe that you control your destiny, that you can be what you want to be.

This loving person is a person who abhors waste – waste of time, waste of human potential. How much time we waste. As if we were going to live forever.

Love is always open arms. If you close your arms about love you will find that you are left holding only yourself.

Life is a great and wondrous mystery, and the only thing we know that we have for sure is what is right here right now. Don’t miss it.

Most of us are pawns in a game of love we don’t understand.

Everybody needs a hug. It changes your metabolism.

Love is not a thing, it is not lost when given. You can offer your love completely to hundreds of people and still retain the same love you had originally.

You are the only you. You are the best you. You will always be the second best anyone else.

In the end you have only you.

Anything that is learned can be unlearned and relearned.

Love is like a mirror. When you love another you become his mirror and he becomes yours. And reflecting each other’s love you see infinity.

A life lived in love will never be dull.

Love is life. And if you miss love, you miss life.

The leaves along the limpid streams of Eden? Is your course measur’d for ye? Or do ye Sweep on in your unbounded revelry Through an aerial universe of endless Expansion,–at which my soul aches to think,– Intoxicated with eternity.

The essential element of love is a belief in its own eternity.

Don’t you just love these long rainy afternoons in New Orleans when an hour isn’t just an hour — but a little bit of eternity dropped in your hands — and who knows what to do with it?

The past is never dead. It’s not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity.

The kinds of truth that art gives us many, many times are small truths. They don’t have the resonance of an encyclical from the Pope stating an eternal truth, but they partake of the quality of eternity. There is a sort of timeless delight in them.

The world that you can go walk outside and walk around the block. That’s reality. The reality that’s being talked about is something else entirely.

Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end.

Space is to place as eternity is to time.