There is no sacrifice possible for me that I should ever regret.

Our love is what we choose to make it.

Regard it as a foolish pastime, and we are no better than the vulgar crowd--we know how they speak of it.

What detestable thoughts your words brought to my mind! Have you not heard men and women, those who have outlived such glimpses of high things as nature ever sent them, making a jest of love in young lives, treating it, from the height of their wisdom forsooth, as a silly dream of boys and girls?
If we ever live to speak or think like that, it will indeed be time to have done with the world.

Even as I love you now, my heart's darling, I shall love you when years of intimacy are like some happy journey behind us, and on into the very portal of death.