Love’s the one equation that’ll never be complete.
Love is the solution that’s anything but replete.
Love will knock you by the wayside.
Love will leave you wishing that you had a different suite.
Love is just a waltzing when all there is goes to the rhumba.
Love kills more men than bombs.
Love cures all the ills that you never thought would ever be
wrong.
Love’s a curse.
Love’s a demand.
Love’s the freedom you’ll never expect to happen.
Love’s a squashed pear on a bookshelf.
Love makes the world worse and better, and better and worse
all the time.
Love will die and it’ll live again.
Love will leave and come on back.
Love’s the slowest train you’ve ever known coming down the
track.
Love is pretzels when you’re thirsty.
Love is the last song at the skate rink.
Love cuts the reason from your only rhyme.
Love slurps oysters over a dirty sink.
Love will end you up in The Clink.
Love’s a toast you can’t make.
Love is forever’s ending.
Love is stale tortilla chips dipped in rancid salsa.
Love is a half-dollar when all you need is a quarter to
start the washer.
Love doesn’t care what promises were meant for.
Love gives up before it ever had a chance.
Love is way slower than the sound of loneliness.
Love’s a tougher way to say goodbye.
Love won’t just move on over for just anybody.
Love’s a miserable proposition to some guy with food poisoning.
Love is Paris in a bottle.
Love is being on the run.
Love will sit heavy on your chest when you’ve fallen down,
again.
Love’s a place you’ve never been that keeps calling you
home.
Love will strain and ebb and dash and flow.
Love won’t remember your car when you go.
Love will speak into the crook of your arm and spell your
name wrong.
Love’s got a shot of whisky in it sometimes.
Love has no idea what to say most of the time.
Love irks more umps than Earl Weaver ever did.
Love makes plans just to break them all the time.
Love’s digging through the used-record bin while drinking a vanilla
coke and listening to a popcorn machine pop.
Love won’t sashay with all those unnecessary plastic objects
that fill a purse.
Love dances closer than that.
Love’s a longshot gone to the wild
horses.
Love cries over TV shows.
Love makes the nights worth the days.
Love is on sale all the time in some dingy five-and-dime.
Love will make you cringe and cry and feel ashamed.
Love is hazel eyes and chestnut tears and all the dates you
never got to have.
Love’s an escalator going sideways.
Love is just a Nanci Griffith song on the radio.
Love rends and roars and reaps without a sow.
Love will leave you blind when all you want to do is look.
Love is Mississippi on the horizon.
Love gets cranky and ashamed when the weather won’t work out
right.
Love doesn’t listen.
Love doesn’t always bend with the stems of flowers.
Love waits and waits and waits and waits and waits.
Love’s some abandoned shack on the side of an old highway in
the Mojave.
Love’s a high-school kid’s binder covered with felt-penned band
names.
Love creases anything you’d ever dream to fold.
Love is a newborn crying through the wrinkles of youth.
Love cannot be just cause or effect.
Love will tell you when you’ve had enough.
Love won’t listen to your excuses.
Love is some Santa Cruz girl telling you that you’re just
tops.
Love is the bottle’s last drop.
Love is that last sip of bourbon from a best friend’s glass.
Love is what never dies when you do.
Love is a kiss blown across a room to some girl you barely
know.
Love cheats and conspires and marries for money too.
Love is not true or kind or gentle.
Love is its own end.
Love reminds and forgets.
Love crowds a bar and thunders through another storm.
Love is a heart you’ve never known wishing you farewell.
Love is some little kid crying in their sleep.
Love casts prayers out into the dark waters of time.
Love doesn’t always make amends.
Love is cruel.
Love is anywhere but here.
Love is everything and nothing and all that’s in between.
Love is sometimes all you’ve got.
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