Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.

So the small things came into their own: small acts of helping others, if one could; small ways of making one's own life better: acts of love, acts of tea, acts of laughter. Clever people might laugh at such simplicity, but, she asked herself, what was their own solution?

Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition. -Alexander Smith.

The love of liberty is the love of others; the love of power is the love of ourselves.
(1778 - 1830)

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead

They didn't recognize me," I repeat.
He stops in turn, my hand still on his arm.
"It is because they have never seen you," he says. "I would recognize you anywhere.