She said: "My Uncle Malky used to say that love was a bad bargain because you get no guarantees.

I think great romance needs great obstacles and textures.

During my teens and early 20s, I proved to be anything but what most people expected Billy Graham's son to be. I'm so thankful he never gave up on me or quit loving me.

But grief still has to be worked through. It is like walking through water. Sometimes there are little waves lapping about my feet. Sometimes there is an enormous breaker that knocks me down. Sometimes there is a sudden and fierce squall. But I know that many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

If she could give love to IT perhaps it would shrivel up and die, for she was sure that IT could not withstand love.

I suspect that in every good marriage there are times when love seems to be over. Sometimes these desert lines are simply the only way to the next oasis, which is far more lush and beautiful after the desert crossing than it could possibly have been without it.

The lines of love cross time and space.

To love anyone is to hope in him always. From the moment at which we begin to judge anyone, to limit our confidence in him, from the moment at which we identify [pigeonhole] him, and so reduce him to that, we cease to love him, and he ceases to be able to become better. We must dare to love in a world that does not know how to love.

That's quite something, to be loved by someone like Mrs Whatsit.

The answer has something to do with love. Love that has to go through darkness and pain and endurance and a stark acceptance before it can come out into the far light of the sun.

we would, all of us, be less than we are if it weren't for those we love and who've loved us who have died.

Many waters cannot quench love,' she whispered. 'Neither can floods drown it.