Love says, I could eat you up. Love says, stay as you are, be my own private thing, don't you dare have ideas I don't share. Love has just got to gobble the other, bones and all, crunch. I sure don't want to do that. A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life, to be thankful for a good one.
Love is like the measles.
The older you get it, the worse the attack. No one has ever loved anyone the way everyone wants to be loved. Love never dies quite suddenly. He complains a great deal before expiring. Love is a fruit in season at all times.