Love is a portion of the soul itself, and it is of the same nature as the celestial breathing of the atmosphere of paradise.

Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love.

And I love that even in the toughest moments, when we're all sweating it - when we're worried that the bill won't pass, and it seems like all is lost - Barack never lets himself get distracted by the chatter and the noise. Just like his grandmother, he just keeps getting up and moving forward... with patience and wisdom, and courage and grace.

Love never dies of starvation, but often of indigestion.

Love is an endless mystery, for it has nothing else to explain it.