Real love is the love that sometimes arises after sensual pleasure: if it does, it is immortal; the other kind inevitably goes stale, for it lies in mere fantasy.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations: it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart.
Genuine and true love is so rare that when you encounter it in any form, it's a wonderful thing, to be utterly cherished in whatever form it takes.
Real love is a pilgrimage. It happens when there is no strategy, but it is very rare because most people are strategists.
A real love story is sometimes exhausting. A romance is deliberately constructed to yield a certain result; the ambiguities are trimmed out, so it's neater and more pleasing to our hearts. But you don't live a love story, you live a life.
Real love is more than a physical feeling. If there's even the slightest doubt in your head about a guy, then forget about it. It's not real.
Real love is a permanently self-enlarging experience.
Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.
True love is not a strong, fiery, impetuous passion. It is, on the contrary, an element calm and deep. It looks beyond mere externals, and is attracted by qualities alone. It is wise and discriminating, and its devotion is real and abiding.
The real lover is the man who can thrill you just by touching your head or smiling into your eyes - or just by staring into space.