What Is Love?

What is love?

One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are more comparable to the loss of a finger, or the sight of an eye. We may not miss them, either, for one minute in a year, but if we should there is nothing to be done about it. Live through feeling and you will live through love. For feeling is the language of the soul, and feeling is truth.


No woman/man is worth your tears and the only one who is, will never make you cry. If you love someone, put their name in a circle, instead of a heart, because hearts can break, but circles go on forever. If all my friends were to jump off a bridge, I wouldn't jump with them, I'd be at the bottom to catch them. Love is like playing the piano. First you must learn to play by the rules, then you must forget the rules and play from your heart. It takes a minute to have a crush on someone, an hour to like someone and a day to love someone but it takes a lifetime to forget someone. At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.


War is like love, it always finds a way. You cannot love a thing without wanting to fight for it. For anything worth having one must pay the price; and the price is always work, patience, love, self-sacrifice -- no paper currency, no promises to pay, but the gold of real service. For in the end, we will conserve only what we love. We will love only what we understand. We will understand only what we are taught.

A human being is a part of the whole, called by us Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest--a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole nature in its beauty. When all is said and done, friendship is the only trustworthy fabric of the affections. So-called love is a delirious inhuman state of mind: when hot it substitutes indulgence for fair play; when cold it is cruel, but friendship is warmth in cold, firm ground in a bog.

Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible - it cannot be seen or measured - yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment, and offer you more than any material possession ever could. No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever.
Love won't be tampered with, love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other. In the end... everyone is a winner cause everyone learns... one way or another!