What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
The young habitually mistake lust for love, they're infested with idealism of all kinds.
Since there's no more you and me. It's time I let you go so I Can Be Free.
So of course time is necessary. But nevertheless damn painful, for it transforms all the pieces of your life - joy and sorrow, youth and age, love and hate, terror and bliss - from fire into smoke rising up the air and dissipating on a breeze.
You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest.
What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine
Staid middle age loves the hurricane passions of opera.
No human being can ever 'own' another, whether in friendship, love, marriage, or parenthood.
For love is sufficient unto love.
All sorts of yayness floods my brain. Love is such a drug.