Love, literati-style

I've been remiss in my book review duties, and plan to get back on track, but for now here's some filler...um, I mean perfectly cromulent content.  In honor of Valentine's Day, here some of my favorite literary pontifications on love:

"For a moment Anne's heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert's gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps. . . perhaps. . .love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath." -- Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of the Island


"Call me unimaginative, but I still can't think of anyone I'd rather be with. On our worst days, I figure things will probably work themselves out. Otherwise, I really don't give our problems much thought. Neither of us would ever publicly display affection; we're just not that type. We can't profess love without talking through hand puppets, and we'd never consciously sit down to discuss our relationship. These, to me, are good things. They were fine with Hugh as well, until he saw that damned movie and was reminded that he has other options." -- David Sedaris, "The End of the Affair"


“Who wants to go to town?” demanded Daisy insistently. Gatsby’s eyes floated toward her. “Ah,” she cried, “you look so cool.”
Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space. With an effort she glanced down at the table.
“You always look so cool,” she repeated.
She had told him that she loved him, and Tom Buchanan saw. He was astounded. His mouth opened a little, and he looked at Gatsby, and then back at Daisy as if he had just recognized her as some one he knew a long time ago." -- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby


"I missed him. Love, I realized, was something your spine memorized. There was nothing you could do about that." --  Lorrie Moore, Anagrams


And another favorite, somewhat related though not technically in book form:

"The book of love is long and boring;
No one can lift the damn thing.
It's full of charts, and facts and figures...
And instructions for dancing.
But I,
I love it when you read to me.
And you,
You can read me anything"
-- "Book of Love," The Magnetic Fields (though the Peter Gabriel version is preferred)