Over its lifetime, love is always loud and wild. It knows no moderation, and burns bright, hot or icy cold. At its best it is the sunshine in the heart, but its fire keeps burning, even in the heat of heartbroken tears, jilted anger, and sighs of longing. At its worst, it can burn again like ice, in fits of jealousy and belated contempt.
But when it finally dies, it does so quietly and silently, without the faintest whimper.
The Loskop Diaries 