Love is not something bound to two people, or even hundreds. Love can stand alone, it can be shared, it can mend and it can heal. Love does not die nor can it “run out,” its application simply changes.

Love cannot be given to another, love is shared – the responsibility of both parties. It need not be nurtured, it need only be preserved. That avenue must remain open.

Love is work – but not because it must be kept “alive,” for love is not a fleeting feeling, but a dedication – it requires cooperation.

As with all things, there must be balance: be it between two, hundreds, thousands or within yourself. You cannot share love with yourself if each part cannot agree, nor can it be shared (lastingly) with others.

But never have I been a calm blue sea. I have always been a storm.

You do not have to understand what I am, only respect that it is.

‘There’s a song,’ she said. ‘In praise of the full moon.’
‘It ain’t full,’ Granny pointed out. ‘It’s wossname. Bulging.’
‘Gibbous,’ said Nanny obligingly.
‘I think it’s in praise of full moons in general,’ Magrat hazarded. ‘And then we have to raise our consciousness. It really ought to be a full moon for that, I’m afraid. Moons are very important.’
Granny gave her a long, calculating look.
‘That’s modern witchcraft for you, is it?’ she said.
‘It’s part of it, Granny. There’s a lot more.’
Granny Weatherwax sighed. ‘Each to her own, I suppose. I’m blowed if I’ll let a ball of shiny rock tell me what to do.’
‘Yes, bugger all that,’ said Nanny. ‘Let’s curse somebody.’

You cannot choose who you Love, but you can choose How you Love.

There will be times when one will yell, ‘Justice,’ and another, ‘Vengeance,’ from which they will both bring forth the same end.