The Wise Man's Fear (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #2)

by Patrick Rothfuss

“Love is the willingness to do anything for someone,” I said. “Even at detriment to yourself.” “In that case,” she said, “how is love different from duty or loyalty?” “It is also combined with a physical attraction,” I said. “Even a mother’s love?” Vashet asked. “Combined with an extreme fondness then,” I amended. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘fondness’?” she asked with a maddening calm. “It is …” I trailed off, racking my brain to think how I could describe love without resorting to other, equally abstract terms. “This is the nature of love,” Vashet said. “To attempt to describe it will drive a woman mad. That is what keeps poets scribbling endlessly away. If one could pin it to the paper all complete, the others would lay down their pens. But it cannot be done.” She held up a finger. “But only a fool claims there is no such thing as love. When you see two young ones staring at each other with dewy eyes, there it is. So thick you can spread it on your bread and eat it. When you see a mother with her child, you see love. When you feel it roil in your belly, you know what it is. Even if you cannot give voice to it in words.”