All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other.

All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other; hopelessly, I should add, because that frenzy of mutual possession might have been assuaged only by our actually imbibing and assimilating every particle of each other's soul and flesh; but there we were, unable even to mate as slum children would have so easily found an opportunity to do so.

We agreed to love each other madly.

We were very much in love — the wild, mysterious, improbable kind of love that never comes but once.

I’m crazy in love. I’m just crazy.

It would have been disaster if we hadn't been so desperately in love with each other.

I loved him as we always love for the first time; with idolatry and wild passion.

I am catastrophically in love with you.

I mean we desperately wanted to be in love with something or other. We were lonely people. It seemed more sensible to fall in love with another person who also wanted to fall in love, than to love a chair or a cat or an idea.

We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierceness that so often destroys adult lives.

I loved you madly; in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly.

Like a fool, I fell in love with you,
Turned my whole world upside down

To say we were 'in love', that vague weakened phrase, cannot express it. We loved each other, we lived in each other, through each other, by each other. We were each other. Why was it such pure unadulterated pain?

What did it feel like, I wondered, to love someone that much? So much that you couldn't even control yourself when they came close, as if you might just break free of whatever was holding you and throw yourself at them with enough force to easily overwhelm you both.