“Love is
a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes
and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to
make a decision. You have to work out whether your
roots have 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 eternal passion. That is just being
in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is
left
over when being in love has burned away, and this is
both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly
love have roots that grow towards each other
underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have
fallen from their branches, they find that they are one
tree and not two.”