Love is when the soul starts to sing and the flowers of your life bloom on their own.

The meaning of this is, that whomsoever we love, in him we find our own soul in the highest sense. The final truth of our existence lies in this. God, the Supreme Soul, is in me, as well as in my son, and my joy in my son is the realisation of this truth.

People fall in love in mysterious ways. Maybe it's all part of a plan.

A soul which knows that it is loved, but does not itself love, betrays its sediment: its dregs come up.

Love does not see with the eyes, but with the soul.

Perfect love is the most beautiful of all frustrations because it is more than one can express.