"To be in love is merely to be In a state of perpetual anesthesia: To mistake an ordinary young man for a Greek god Or an ordinary young woman for a goddess."
We must widen the circle of our love until it embraces the whole village; the village in turn must take into its fold the district; the district the province, and so on till the scope of our love encompasses the whole world.
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
