"I hope that you see right through my walls I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling I'll never let a love get so close You put your arms around me and I'm home..."

The whole thing's tumbling down

Things start splitting at the seams and now

If things start splitting at the seams and now,

It's tumbling down

Hard.

Anything to make you smile

You are the ever-living ghost of what once was

I never want to hear you say

That you'd be better off

Or you liked it that way

But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do

No one's gonna love you more than I do

 Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become 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. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two
-St. Augustine

In a book, in a box, in the closet 
In a line, in a song I once heard 
In a moment on a front porch late one June 
In a breath inside a whisper beneath the moon 

There it was at the tips of my fingers 
There it was on the tip of my tongue 
There you were and I had never been that far 
There it was the whole world wrapped inside my arms 

-Leighton Meester