Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers'' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers'' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet
If she is an apple and you are an orange, celebrate your differences, Make a great fruit salad Love is not about being the same, Its about being sweet with each other.
Sometimes your nearness takes my breath away;
and all the things I want to say can find no
voice. Then, in silence, I can only hope my
eyes will speak my heart.
