Love is a temporary madness it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness it is not excitement it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No dont blush I am telling you some truths. That is just being in love which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.