Whatever pains disease may bring Are but the tangy seasoning To Loves delicious fare.

Each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word. The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword!

Love is unworldly and nothing comes of it but love.

Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here.

You must love him, ere to you He will seem worthy of your love.

A pity beyond all telling Is in the heart of love.

A mighty pain to love it is, And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.

It is the missed opportunity that counts, and in a love that vainly yearns from behind prison bars you have perchance the love supreme.

The first sigh of love is the last of wisdom.

'I love you' is really a question.