Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes.
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers’ tears.
What is it else?
A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

 

 

 

Why won’t you ever know that I’m in love with you?
That I’m in love with you?

—THE CURE