Love is the burning point of life, and since all life is sorrowful, so is love. The stronger the love, the more the pain. Love itself is pain, you might say -the pain of being truly alive.
A promise, a bond, a joy, a love for the ages, for the history books.…But what was love but pain?
The only way love punishes in by suffering.
Love is a reciprocal torture.
All you who are in love Aye and can not remove it I pity the pain that you endure. For experience lets me know That your hearts are filled with woe It's a woe that no mortal can cure. -"the Curragh of Kildare
Ah, me, if this is love, then how it torments.
Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other, That passionate Love is Pain's own mother.
All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.
