The single greatest thing about love, in my experience, is the way it is doomed to pain and loss from its onset. Whether it is the spouse that outlives their lover, or loses them to another, there is no escaping that most solemn of inevitabilities. That two people can commit themselves to all this sadness and heartache in the name of such brief happiness, the warm touch of familiar skin, the unrivalled pleasantness in waking up beside the same person you spent the entire night with in your dreams, is all the proof I need that insanity exists, and it is fucking beautiful.
―  Hunting Season  (Beau Taplin)