That's the thing about love. However you have it, however you've had it--it never goes. Once it's touched you, it's touched you forever. You'll be permanently scarred by its brilliance. You can walk through the rest of your life with that wonderful knowledge ... Someone once loved me and it was beautiful. No one can take that away from you.
Real love doesn't mend everything. Real love doesn't conquer all. And, most importantly, real love doesn't require a happily-ever-after--that's not what it's about. But real love does change you. It moulds you. It burns your heart into a charred cinder that relights like a phoenix, stronger and more blazing than ever.
He had fallen in love with her almost, already; for her anger made her more charming than any one else had ever beheld her; and, as far as he could see, which certainly was not far, she had not a single fault about her, except, of course, that she had not any gravity. No prince, however, would judge of a princess by weight.
But the princess had to learn to walk, before they could be married with any propriety. And this was not so easy at her time of life, for she could walk no more than a baby. She was always falling down and hurting herself. “Is this the gravity you used to make so much of?” said she one day to the prince, as he raised her from the floor. “For my part, I was a great deal more comfortable without it.” “No, no, that’s not it. This is it,” replied the prince, as he took her up, and carried her about like a baby, kissing her all the time. “This is gravity.” “That’s better,” said she. “I don’t mind that so much.