Love is an art, which can be mastered through hard study. Most people think that love is first whether you can be loved, not whether you have the ability to love. They think that "there is nothing to learn in love" because they think that the problem of love is the object problem, not the ability problem. They think that love itself is very simple, and the difficulty lies in finding the object of love or the object of being loved. -Fromm's The Art of Love
Fundamentally speaking, love is an act of will. Loving someone is not only a strong feeling, but also a decision, a judgment and a commitment. If love is just an emotion, then the commitment to love for a lifetime has no foundation. Because a feeling is easy to produce, but it may soon disappear. -Fromm's The Art of Love
4. Freud believed that love is the expression of sexual desire, and libido is not as love for others, but as self-love. -Fromm's The Art of Love
In most cases, love only takes the form as the object when it melts into an emotion of fear of losing or not getting it. And this kind of anxiety is inextricably linked to the body. It adds a luster to the body that is even more attractive than beauty. One of the reasons why we usually see some men ignoring beautiful women and madly loving those ugly women is that. -Proust's memories of the past
6. When I was a child, the gentlest love in my dream, even the essence of love, was nothing more than facing our beloved woman and expressing my warmth and gratitude for her kindness, hoping that they would grow old together. -Proust's "Remembering the Past"
7. When parting, all those who say gentle and considerate words are people without love, and true love is beyond words. -Proust's "Remembering the Past"
8. Love is the time and space that the mind can feel. -Proust's "Remembering the Past"
9. When a person reaches a certain age, his love and his mistress will all become by-products of anxiety. Our past and recording past physical injuries determine our future. -Proust's "Remembering the Past"
10, we thought we loved a girl, but in fact, alas, we loved dawn, because their faces reflected the crimson color of dawn in an instant. -Proust's "Remembering the Past"