I love, therefore I am.

Love and honor. They are the two great things, and now they’re dimmed and blighted. Today, love is just sex and sentimentality. Love is really a recognition of truth, a recognition of another person’s integrity and truth in a way that is compatible with — that makes both of you light up when you recognize the quality in the other. That’s what love is. It’s a recognition of singularity… And love is giving and giving and giving … not looking for any return. Until you do that, you can’t love.

This seems to me a philosophical question, and therefore irrelevant, question. A poet's destiny is to love.

Eros aimed one of his arrows at Medea, and drove it into her heart, up to the feathers.

Love is a universal migraine. A bright stain on the vision, Blotting out reason.