The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever.

Were all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness, and call it love, true love.

You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.

You love me. Real or not real? I tell him, Real.