It is the same in love as in war; a fortress that parleys is half taken. – Marguerite de Valois

And he could glance at her continually as she bent over the fruit, while the level evening sunbeams stole through the thick apple-tree boughs and rested on her round cheek and neck as if they too were in love with her. – George Eliot, Adam Bede

[T]here is no hope for us in this painful, mysterious world save in giving ourselves to love. – Byron Caldwell Smith, letter to Kate Stephens