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Kuruvilla Pandikattu

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Love is the source of our hope/ Love is the basis of our vision/ Love is the goal of our progress/ Love is our world.
--
Life: Relish It! p.141

 
Kuruvilla Pandikattu

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Love's arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope,
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In that close kiss and drank her whisper'd tales.
They said that Love would die when Hope was gone.
And Love mourn'd long, and sorrow'd after Hope;
At last she sought out Memory, and they trod
The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope,
And Memory fed the soul of Love with tears.

 
Alfred (Lord) Tennyson
 

Oh, love, love, love —
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Soren Aabye Kierkegaard
 

Son, you're probably too young to look for wisdom in anyone's words but your own, but I'll tell you this: love is the enemy... Yes. The poets continually and sometimes willfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer. Love is not blind. Love is a cannibal with extremely acute vision. Love is insectile; it is always hungry.
When asked what love eats:
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