A singer burns in his voice. A lover exhausts himself in his love. Song is that burn, love is that weariness. I see you neither burned nor exhausted. You expect of love that it will fill and fulfill you. But love does not fill anything, not the hole you have in your head, not the abyss that you have in your heart. Love is an absence much more than a fullness.
— Christian Bobin, The Very Lowly