This is Love
When one is alone, imperfection must be endured every minute of the day; a couple, however, does not have to put up with it. Arenít our eyes made to be torn out, and our hearts for the same purpose? At the same time itís really not that bad; thatís an exaggeration and a lie, everything is exaggeration, the only truth is longing. But even the truth of longing is not so much its own truth; itís really an expression for everything else, which is a lie. This sounds crazy and distorted, but itís true. Moreover, perhaps it isnít love when I say you are what I love the most - you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love. This, my dear, is love.
Franz Kafka, in 'Letters to Milena'