Maybe, sometimes, it's easier to be mad at the people you trust because you know they'll always love you, no matter what.
All I want, is for you to love me. Not because of what I can do or what I look like, or because I love you — just because I am.
Everything I know, I know because of love.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving.
Nobody knows you.
You don't know yourself.
And I, who am half in love with you,
What am I in love with?
My own imaginings?
Why? It’s because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I love you, anyway.
That has to be what love is — seeing what a mess he is and loving him anyway, because you know you're a mess, too, maybe even worse.
You know I don't love any one but you. You shouldn't mind because some one else loved me.
I know you worry about me needing you, but I shouldn't be with you because I need you. I should be with you because I love you.
Do you know what I really need?
I need love love love love love, yeah!