“My love is selfish. I cannot breathe without you.”

“I love you, Dominique. As selfishly as the fact that I exist. As selfishly as my lungs breathe air. I breathe for my own necessity, for the fuel of my body, for my survival. I've given you, not my sacrifice or my pity, but my ego and my naked need. This is the only way I can want you to love me.”

“He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I love you Anastasia. I will do everything in my power to protect you. I cannot imagine my life without you.”

“I will always come for you, a ghrá. You are my life, the very air I breathe, and I cannot be without you. Táim I ngrá leat. Is tú mo shonuachar. I love you. You’re my soul mate.”

“In the end, even the “yes” to love is a source of suffering, because love always requires expropriations of my “I”, in which I allow myself to be pruned and wounded. Love simply cannot exist without this painful renunciation of myself, for otherwise it becomes pure selfishness and thereby ceases to be love.”

“I think perfect love is any time you love unconditionally, without selfish intent, without concern for personal gain.”