“Don't you know that love isn't just going to bed? Love isn't an act, it's a whole life. It's staying with her now because she needs you; it's knowing you and she will still care about each other when sex and daydreams, fights and futures -- when all that's on the shelf and done with. Love -- why, I'll tell you what love is: it's you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one, each of you listening for the other's step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime's talk is over.”

“Love - why, I'll tell you what love is: it's you at 75 and her at 71, each of you listening for the other's step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime's talk is over.”

“Love isn’t an act, it’s a whole life. It’s staying with [them] now because [they] need you; it’s knowing you... will still care about each other when sex and daydreams, fights and futures—when all that’s on the shelf and done with.”

“My wife and I just don't have the same feelings for each other we used to have. I guess I just don't love her anymore and she doesn't love me. What can i do?""The feeling isn't there anymore?" I asked."That's right," he reaffirmed. "And we have three children we're really concerned about. What do you suggest?""love her," I replied."I told you, the feeling just isn't there anymore.""Love her.""You don't understand. the feeling of love just isn't there.""Then love her. If the feeling isn't there, that's a good reason to love her.""But how do you love when you don't love?" "My friend , love is a verb. Love - the feeling - is a fruit of love, the verb. So love her. Serve her. Sacrifice. Listen to her. Empathize. Appreciate. Affirm her. Are you willing to do that?”

“Love doesn't work that way. You don't meet one day and kiss and see sparkles the next. Real love takes time. They need to get to know each other, and when they do, then they might fall in love. They know next to nothing about each other now.”

“I'll think about something else. I'll just sit quietly. If I could sit still. If I could sit still, maybe I could read. Oh, all the books are about people who love each other, truly and sweetly. What do they want to write about that for? Don't they know it isn't true? Don't they know it's a lie, it's a God-damned lie? What do they have to tell about that for, when they know how it hurts?”