Richard Bach

The world’s crazy, when it comes to beauty.

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.

Argue for your limitations and, sure enough, they’re yours.

If you love someone set them free. If they come back, they’re yours; if they don’t, they never were.

Respect for sovereignity, for privacy, for total independence. Gentle alliances against loneliness, they were, cool rational love-affairs without the love.

Sooner or later, those who win are those who think they can.

Spread love everywhere you go let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.

Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.

For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.

When a man is in love or in debt, someone else has the advantage.

The love we shared is a paper town on a map we drew ourselves, drunk and fucked and needing to be more than we were.

Love, though said to be afflicted with blindness, is a vigilant watchman.

And now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it. Already choking on my pride, so there’s no use crying about it.

I have imprinted on you and all those miles between us only keep us apart because we let them.

Love is the free exercise of choice. Two people love each other only when they are quite capable of living without each other but choose to live with each other.

The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.

They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill, what never dies. Nor can Spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same Divine Principle; the Root and Record of their Friendship. If Absence be not death, neither is theirs. Death is but Crossing the World, as Friends do the Seas; They live in one another still. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is Omnipresent. In this Divine Glass, they see Face to Face; and their Converse is Free, as well as Pure. This is the Comfort of Friends, that though they may be said to Die, yet their Friendship and Society are, in the best Sense, ever present, because Immortal.

Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them.

All we do is drive. All we do is think about the feelings that we hide.

I’m fine with the ups and downs in our story as long as the theme is love.

Love is real, love is pure, you only take what you give and give what you take. At its purest it is real. No pretending.