“But what doesn’t die is the love we give to others. There is no end to that.”

“I guess in the end, it doesn’t matter what we wanted. What matters is what we chose to do with the things we had.”

“What do we have to live for, but each other. What do we have to die for, but our love?”

“Hope is the greatest madness. What can we expect of a world that we enter with the assurance of seeing our fathers and mothers die? A world where, if two beings love each other and give their lives to each other, both can be sure that one will watch the other perish?”

“The problem with love and God, the two of them, is how to say anything about them that doesn’t annihilate them instantly with the wrong words, with untruth. . . . In this sense, love and God are equivalents. We feel both, but because we cannot speak clearly about them, we end up–wordless, inarticulate—by denying their existence altogether, and, pfffffft, they die.”

“That’s why love stories don’t have endings! They don’t have endings because love doesn’t end.”