Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.
Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. 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, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.
My heart still races. I still blush when you look at me that special way. I'm still in love with the lines around your eyes when you smile. I still crave your touch.
Louis de Bernieres
13 years on - and this thing we have is even more beautiful than it was before. 2 amazing children. A family the likes of which I'd only dreamed. I love you. I love our sons.
Thank you, a thousand times, for marrying me.
*With my parents, on our wedding day.