Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away,
"She is a paradox. She is faithful and yet detached. She is committed and yet relaxed. She loves everyone and yet no one. She is sociable but also a loner. She is gentle and yet tough. She is passionate but can also be platonic, in short, she is predictable in her unpredictability..."
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