I know of only one duty, and that is to love.
Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.
Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time.
Love is the kind of illness that does not spare the intelligent or the dull.
People don't love each other at our age, Marthe—they please each other, that's all. Later on, when you're old and impotent, you can love someone. At our age, you just think you do. That's all it is.
Man is an idea, and a precious small idea once he turns his back on love.
To abandon oneself to principles is really to die - and to die for an impossible love which is the contrary of love.
My chief occupation, despite appearances, has always been love.
The act of love . . . is a confession. Selfishness screams aloud, vanity shows off, or else true generosity reveals itself.
That is love, to give away everything, to sacrifice everything, without the slightest desire to get anything in return.3
After another moment's silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.
For there is merely bad luck in not being loved; there is misfortune in not loving.
Some cry: 'Love me!!' Others: 'Don't love me!!' But a certain genus, the worst and most unhappy, cries: 'Don't love me and be faithful to me!!'
The desire for possession is insatiable, to such a point that it can survive even love itself. To love, therefore, is to sterilize the person one loves.
I conceived at least one great love in my life, of which I was always the object.
[Love] is the type of disease that spares neither the intelligent nor the idiotic.
Indeed, men never know how to love. nothing satisfies them. All they know is to dream, to imagine new duties, to look for new countries and new homes. While we women, we know that we must hasten to love, to share the same bed, hold hands, and fear absence. When we women love, we dream of nothing.
Have pity, Lord, on those who love and are separated.
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