It wasn't that I wanted to know her now. I wanted to have already known her. I wanted her fears and her desires to have shaped my life. I know this is not love, of course. What it is is a queer feeling of nostalgia for an impossible future, for what can never be. That's fantasy. Love is different.

A pure love is a selfless love, but can desire ever be selfless?

Love is always a surprise and you never get it right.

She knows what it's like to love someone who cannot love you back. Someone who needs you, holds you, yes, but someone who will never know that love is the knife in your heart.

Every act of loving affirms the goodness of the lover just because he is capable of loving and being loved.

Every person in therapy has a love disorder.

I loved her for what I couldn't understand about her. Love searches for the mystery in the beloved, seeks the unknowable.