When it happened I was terrified. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I was a cliche. I looked at myself in the mirror and in my eyes was a look I had never seen before: confusion, mystery and, yes, happiness. I had fallen in love.

After making love there is nothing like making love, slowly, idly, like walking without a destination, or swimming in a warm sea.

Love hurts. Love is fragile. Love comes like a breath of magic, then departs leaving us feeling empty, alone, a paper cup blowing on the wind.

Love is like being on a small boat in the middle of the sea with no compass and no one to rely on except each other.

There is a word I have always avoided in my writing, my life, my thoughts. That word is love. What does it mean? How do you deal with it? If you find it and lose it, how do you get over it? Love is something you feel and when you feel it you can’t trust it or define it. How can you sustain love for a long time? A short time? You may love your family, your friends. But you don’t invite them inside your body.

An attractive woman becomes beautiful when she's happy and in love.

Always say yes and try before you say no.

Falling in love is like falling from a high cliff into a warm silky sea, the falling is like flying and the landing is like a glimpse of the divine.

You don't feel yourself falling in love, like it's a journey, a process; on the contrary, it hits you like a sudden ague, a fever, the realisation that your life will never be the same again.