"Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you. Changes its mind."

Love isn't the determining factor. It doesn't last.

Love is like a sweet breeze in May.

It comes unexpectedly, hitting you with its sweetness.

But it is fleeting. Never overstaying its welcome.

Only the remnants of sweetness remind you that it was even there in the first place.

Yet its that moment we wait for.

Strive for.

And even though we know that it won't last. Even though we know we may not find it.

We still wait.

No, love isn't the determining factor.

It is a myth. A fantasy. A gimmick to keep us guessing, say the cynics.

Love is like God. You can either believe in it or not. Its your choice.

It is invisible to the physical senses and really can not be described with words.

 Words place love into a box. Puts bars around it like a prisoner when it can not possibly put into words.

Love is fragile. Love takes faith.

At many times, Love doesn't come through. You may pray. You may cry. You may plead.

But love can not be coaxed.

It just happens like a sweet breeze in May.







Quote: excerpt from White Oleander by Janet Fitch