Love is a temporary insanity. Its beautiful and its awful. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever be apart. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not temporary bliss, it is not the enactment of promises of eternal zeal. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being "in love" has flown away, and this is both an art and beautiful accident.