To love is to burn, to be on fire.

Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.

Lovers feel a certain burning in their hearts. A deep longing and desire to meet with the beloved creates that burning. To love God is bound to create a very great fire in you. You will be on fire because you have chosen as your love object something impossible. You will have to weep and cry, and you will have to pray, and you will have to fast, and your mind has to continuously repeat and remember the beloved.

The fire of Love cooks me

Love is a fire/It burns everyone/It disfigures everyone/It is the world's excuse for being ugly.

A real flame of love is a subtle thing. It burns as a will–o'–the–wisp, dancing onward to fairylands of delight. It roars as a furnace. Too often jealousy is the quality upon which it feeds.

Enter ‘the ring of fire’ - yes it literally feels like it’s on fire. I pushed for three contractions and my incredible partner, Sean-Marco, delivered our darling daughter into the world. His hands were the first to touch her and the only faces she looked upon were those of her family. She cried beautifully, we checked her vitals and she was happy and perfect. Everything I had wanted for her. Her perfect birth

A real flame of love is a subtle thing. It burns as a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing onward to fairy lands of delight. It roars as a furnace. Too often jealousy is the quality upon which it feeds.

wildfire our love was like a wildfire it blazed and blazed and took down everything in its path but eventually every flame must go out

Love in your hearts as idly burns
As fire in antique Roman urns.

Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.

What thing is love?—for (well I wot) love is a thing It is a prick, it is a sting, It is a pretty, pretty thing; It is a fire, it is a coal, Whose flame creeps in at every hole!

He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.

The feeling I groped assuming love was nothing but a fire.