Love (n.) is treated as though it must be rationed — why should it be essential to love rarely in order to love much?
Love (n.) is a meaningless question to him — 'that sort of question had no meaning, really; but I supposed I didn't.'
Love (n.) can wear the face of hatred for eight years and show itself only when the hated thing is gone: 'They can kill him, for all I care' — then, 'I don't know what will become of me.'
Love (n.) and hate can have the same cause: 'I daresay that's why I love you. But maybe that's why one day I'll come to hate you.'
Love (n.) includes wishing them dead: all normal people have more or less desired the death of those they loved, at some time or another.