The art of love is largely the art of persistence.

When love is suppressed hate takes its place.

You largely constructed your depression. It wasn't given to you. Therefore, you can deconstruct it.

[…] Everyone tries to make his life a work of art. We want love to last and we know that it does not last; even if, by some miracle, it were to last a whole lifetime, it would still be incomplete. Perhaps, in this insatiable need for perpetuation, we should better understand human suffering, if we knew that it was eternal. It appears that great minds are, sometimes, less horrified by suffering than by the fact that it does not endure. In default of inexhaustible happiness, eternal suffering would at least give us a destiny. But we do not even have that consolation, and our worst agonies come to an end one day. One morning, after many dark nights of despair, an irrepressible longing to live will announce to us the fact that all is finished and that suffering has no more meaning than happiness.

Love is a better teacher than duty.

Acceptance is not love. You love a person because he or she has lovable traits, but you accept everybody just because they're alive and human.