My dear, Anyone can tell a woman “I love you,” but only a real lover can say “I hate you,” and make her still here “I love you.” Anyone can have a woman bragging to her friends about them, but it takes a real lover to make her not want to say a single word because she wants to keep you all to herself. Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly. Anyone can be with a woman, but it takes...

My dear, Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. … This is what the fool says. Love is more selfish than that. Love is recognizing someone as good as yourself (or more), and thinking you can have them. Love is the notification of happiness residing in a simple human being, and you wanting that happiness all to yourself. Yes, love is a selfishness, but it’s of the good kind. It has nothing to do with that...

My dear, Love is an IQ diminisher. Love is a self-inflicted heart attack. Love is a sleep killer. Love is a mood swinger. Love is a warmaker. Love is being stupid. Love is being stupid together. Which is much better than being smart alone. Falsely yours, Ambroise-Paul-Toussaint-Jules...

My dear, You may think I like writing, but I don’t. I don’t like giving to the world something it already has enough of, it seems foolish. The world doesn’t need more poets with their quill pens on paper. The world doesn’t need more writers with their hearts on paper. And the world certainly doesn’t need more preachers with their sermons on paper. What the world really needs is more love and less paper...

My dear, The poet’s quest to capture love in words in a futile one. Love is the poetry of the senses. Words will never do it justice. If you want to know poetry, if you want to truly understand and know poetry – then fall head-over-heels in love. There’s no other way. Falsely yours, Honoré de...

My dear, True love brings a shiver upon your body when it passes. True love scares the day-lights out of some, and gives others the hope of something greater. True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen. Falsely yours, François VI, Duc de La Rochefoucauld, Prince de...

My dear, If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular? I think I know why. I think people used to love love, and they used to use lingerie to accent their love for each other. I think people used to truly love, and they used to add to this from that starting point. And lingerie wasn’t that popular then. But now, I think people secretly hate love, for they don’t have it, and now they use lingerie to cover up the fact that they...

My dear, Love and hate are unbelievably close to each other aren’t they? It’s as if they’re two sides of the same coin. Think about it, hate is the discovery of ourselves in others, and being frightened of the recognition. And, on the flip-side, Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition. And man, does that coin flip so easily. Falsely yours, Alexander...

My dear, True love stories never have endings. There are no end credits that role by, or forever afters that leave it just as that, unexplained. No, true love stories repeat themselves over and over again. True love stories are about loving, hurting, fighting, separating, meeting anew, and loving again; over and over and over again. …And some say that even the grave can’t stop a true love story. Falsely yours, Richard David...

My dear, To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best. To learn to never love (again) because it’s too hurt-filled, to learn how to hold your heart shut tight and closed off, that’s to learn how to lose. That’s to learn how to lose yourself, your happiness, and eventually your life. Falsely yours, William Makepeace...