"Love is like infinity: You can't have more or less infinity, and you can't compare two things to see if they're "equally infinite." Infinity just is, and that's the way I think love is, too."

Between the finite and the infinite The missing link of Love has left a void. Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will join In one continued chain of endless life.

I loved but once, yet twice I lose my love!

Why is the measure of love... loss? pg.9

When we lose that sense of the possible we lose it fast.

لأن الانسان إذ يفقد جوهرة الحب اللامعة لا يتصور أنه سيسعد بالعثور عليها مرة أخرى

Later, her first intense, serious love affair, yes then she'd lost something more tangible, if undefinable: her heart? her independence? her control of, definition of, self? That first true loss, the furious bafflement of it. And never again quite so assured, confident.

He had lost that privilege of simple nature, the dissociation of love and pleasure. Pleasure was no longer as simple as eating; it was being complicated by love. Now was beginning that crazy loss of one's self, that neglect of everything but one's dramatic thoughts about the beloved, that feverish inner life all turning upon the [loved one].

Where is the Life we lost in living?

If the meaning of life is futility, human longevity loses its luster.

Life has no meaning the moment you lose the illusion of being eternal.

It's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss. (p. 208)

When you lose touch with inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself. When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world.

What man of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite?