Who would have listened to his tales of woe when his love was the flickering lamp over his own decaying tomb?

It was not one folly that Shakespeare talked about. If Love truly is but a myriad of follies then I have committed them all, that can mean only one thing - I loved her truly, madly, deeply!

That night it did not rain as much in the sky as it did in his heart.

Love lies in those unsent drafts in your mailbox. Sometimes you wonder whether things would have been different if you'd clicked 'Send'.

Walking alone is not difficult but when we have walked a mile worth a thousand years with someone then coming back alone is what is difficult.

One half of me is a hopeless romantic. The other half is well... just realistic.

I wonder if I could take back every 'I love you' ever said to you, would I do it?