„Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement… That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away. It’s waking up next to you with morning breath and bed hair and still thinking, ‘God, I’m lucky.’ It’s making dinner on Tuesday nights, folding laundry, showing up even when the shine wears off. Love is choosing each other when it would be easier not to.“

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