When one is alone, imperfection must be endured every minute of the day; a couple, however, does not have to put up with it. Aren�t our eyes made to be torn out, and our hearts for the same purpose? At the same time it�s really not that bad; that�s 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; it�s really an expression for everything else, which is a lie. This sounds crazy and distorted, but it�s true. Moreover, perhaps it isn�t 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'

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