Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Charles Dickens, Barnaby Rudge
How many young men, in all previous times of unprecedented steadiness, had turned suddenly wild and wicked for the same reason, and, in an ecstasy of unrequited love, taken to wrench off door-knockers, and invert the boxes of rheumatic watchmen!
Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need of hell.
It is better to suffer wrong than to do it, and happier to be sometimes cheated than not to trust.
One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it unless it has all been suffering, nothing but suffering.
But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the other is feeling something, having once existed, its effect is not to be done away with.
To be no part of anybody is to be nothing.