After all, my earstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?

Love, built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

After all, my erstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Just because it perished?

"I could not have desired her enough. She was a living soul and could be loved forever. Like every living creature, she carried in her the presence of eternity. That was why, as she grew older, I saw in her always the child she had been, and why, looking at her when she was a child, I felt the influence of the woman she would be. That is why, in marrying one another, we mortals say "till death." We must take love to the limit of time, because time cannot limit it. A life cannot limit it. Maybe to have it in your hear all your life in this world, even while it fails here, is to succeed. Maybe that is enough"

Here my last love had died.

I'm afraid love is just a word.

The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.

I told you once how I believe it isn't love that dies, it's the man and the woman, something in the man and the woman that dies, doesn't deserve the chance any more to love.

I didn’t know anymore what love meant, or why we were not all better off without it.

I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.

The worst was this: my love was my decay.

If I had never lived, that which I love / Had still been living; had I never loved, / That which I love would still be beautiful — / Happy and giving happiness. What is she? / What is she now? — a sufferer for my sins — / A thing I dare not think upon — or nothing.

Love is dead; let lovers' eyes
Locked in endless dreams
Th' extreme of all extremes
Ope no more, for now Love dies.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.