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I'm sad and blue, about nobody but you. I told you that I loved you right from the start, you told me the same and now you try to break my little heart.

If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

It's hard to talk about love without sounding either cheesy, or revealing too much personal stuff.

I'd rather you didn't talk, but it's up to you.

The less you talk, the more you're listened to.

If you love it enough, anything will talk with you.

The more you know the less you need to say.

I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.