Love is a temporary madness.
It er
upts like an earthq
uake and then s
ubsides.
And when it s
ubsides yo
u have to make a decision.
Yo
u have to work o
ut whether yo
ur roots have become so entwined together
that it is inconceivable that yo
u sho
uld ever part.
Beca
use this is what love is.
Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement,
it is not the prom
ulgation of promises of eternal passion.
That is j
ust being in love which any of
us can convince o
urselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has b
urned away,
and this is both an art and a fort
unate accident.
Yo
ur mother and I had it,
we had roots that grew towards each other
undergro
und,
and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from o
ur branches
we fo
und that we were one tree and not two.
~ Captian Corelli's Mandolin.
