Absolutely, love matters,” she reiterated. “We forget that at our own risk.

Love loves anarchy. It loves to wreak havoc. It loves to dance atop the ruins.

Still, the illusion of love had, in its time, led to stranger depravities.

I’ll put it to you simply: love is the enemy. That’s my conclusion. We should all live in our little monk cells and never venture out ...

Was this what was called falling in love, this wayward glimpse of another person’s soul?

The damage love does when love goes astray. And did it ever, given half a chance, fail to wander?

Does everybody always have to be on the prowl for love?