I knew all along that the prize I had set my life on was not worth the winning.

If you make money your love and you pursue affluence to the exclusion of or at the expense of other values, you have lost, not won.

But never give your love, my friend, Unto a foolish heart

If they gave me a fortune,
My treasure would be small:
I could lose it all tomorrow
And never mind at all.
But if I should lose your love, dear,
I don't know what I'd do,
For I know I'll never find another you.

Yes, I was a fool, but I was in love, and though I was suffering the greatest misery I had ever known I would not have had it otherwise for all the riches of Barsoom. Such is love, and such are lovers wherever love is known.

I say no wealth is worth my life.

Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this.

I start to think that I'm losing the love I have without having yet won the love I hope to win.

"Because it is useless, and I tell them so at once. If you had confessed your fears to me sooner, I would have reassured you. My dear friend, a man in love is not only foolish but dangerous. I cease all intercourse with people who love me or pretend to; firstly, because they bore me, and secondly, because I look upon them with dread, as I would upon a mad dog. I know that your love is only a kind of appetite; while with me it would be a communion of souls. Now, look me in the face — " she no longer smiled. "I will never be your sweetheart; it is therefore useless for you to persist in your efforts. And now that I have explained, shall we be friends?"

Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly.

[T]hose who do not love [life] are unworthy of it.

One is not worthy to have what one, through weakness, lets be taken from him; one is not worthy of it because one is not capable of it.

I had no illusions about you,' he said. 'I knew you were silly and frivolous and empty-headed. But I loved you. I knew that your aims and ideals were vulgar and commonplace. But I loved you. I knew that you were second-rate. But I loved you. It's comic when I think how hard I tried to be amused by the things that amused you and how anxious I was to hide from you that I wasn't ignorant and vulgar and scandal-mongering and stupid. I knew how frightened you were of intelligence and I did everything I could to make you think me as big a fool as the rest of the men you knew. I knew that you'd only married me for convenience. I loved you so much, I didn't care. Most people, as far as I can see, when they're in love with someone and the love isn't returned feel that they have a grievance. They grow angry and bitter. I wasn't like that. I never expected you to love me, I didn't see any reason that you should. I never thought myself very lovable. I was thankful to be allowed to love you and I was enraptured when now and then I thought you were pleased with me or when I noticed in your eyes a gleam of good-humored affection. I tried not to bore you with my love; I knew I couldn't afford to do that and I was always on the lookout for the first sign that you were impatient with my affection. What most husbands expect as a right I was prepared to receive as a favor.

The fool is proved above all things by his finding no satisfaction in any lust.