Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.
Love is the flower you've got to let grow.
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other.
The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh.
Love is something that grows, that comes from nourishment; it builds.
Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand.
Love is a positive, symbiotic, reciprocal flow between two or more entities.
Can anyone remember love? It's like trying to summon up the smell of roses in a cellar. You might see a rose, but never the perfume.
Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using.