“Why does the longing for love have to be so acute, like a desperate thirst? Is it because love is wanting to be saved and we can never really be saved? Maybe love is really born of our fears. Love is the heart’s desire for a painkiller; a tearful plea for a great big epidural. Yes that’s it: love is the only anesthesia that really works. And so people with broken hearts are really those who are just coming to, and if you’ve ever seen someone come out of general anesthesia, you know that it looks a lot like the beginnings of a broken heart.”

“You can't expect people to dwell on the fact that they'll ultimately lose everything they have and love.""Why not? It might make them think about what really matters.""What does really matter?" I asked."Having someone to love. Being compassionate. Being fully alive everyday so that you really see and hear and smell and feel things."...”

“If love doesn’t triumph, it ought to. For love is the one thing we have that feels more powerful than even death; the only respite from life’s wretched absurdity. The magic of love is not that it contains all the answers, it’s that it eliminates the need for so many pressing questions. For love makes us feel like gods--and that’s what we’re really after, isn’t it?”

“What does really matter?” I askedShe looked at me as though wondering if she could trust me with some immense secret. Finally she said, “Having someone to love. Being compassionate. Being fully alive every day so that you really see and hear and smell and feel things.”

“Maybe our relationships--love--can save us, at least enough so that our lives are finally worthwhile, even with all the rotten misery and dying.”

“It was the chance--just the chance--to come fully alive; to love someone else so completely that you would never again feel alone. That was it, wasn’t it? The promise of being engulfed by love and passion and intimacy; to connect in a way that gently sutured together the souls.”

“So who is better off, those who share love long enough to see which parts inevitably fade or those who lose their love when it is still pristine? I think each is lonely in a different place, though if you lose your love while it is still perfect you at least have a clear explanation for your grief, while if it gradually crumbles in your hands you do not.”