“Tomber amoureux. To fall in love. Does it occur suddenly or gradually? If gradually, when is the moment “already”? I would fall in love with a monkey made of rags. With a plywood squirrel. With a botanical atlas. With an oriole. With a ferret. With a marten in a picture. With the forest one sees to the right when riding in a cart to Jaszuny. With a poem by a little-known poet. With human beings whose names still move me. And always the object of love was enveloped in erotic fantasy or was submitted, as in Stendhal, to a “cristallisation,” so it is frightful to think of that object as it was, naked among the naked things, and of the fairy tales about it one invents. Yes, I was often in love with something or someone. Yet falling in love is not the same as being able to love. That is something different.”
“Yet falling in love is not the same as being able to love.”
“One rarely falls in love without being as much attracted to what is interestingly wrong with someone as what is objectively healthy.”
“But to fall in love does not mean to love. One can fall in love and still hate.”
“You have to fall in love to be in love, but falling in love isn't the same as being in love”
“The object of love is not getting something you want but doing something for the well-being of the one you love.”