Love (n.) gives what it does not have.
Love (n.) is, essentially, to wish to be loved.
Love (n.) is what must always undo again, or sever, the knot of imaginary servitude.
Love (n.) without limits can emerge only outside the limits of the law, where alone it may live.
Love's (n.) detailed caring and tender services are in vain, since they reawaken the partner's wound of privation.
Love (n.) is, as Kierkegaard saw, addressed only to oneself through the medium of memory.
Love (n.) in Antigone is not for the brother's content but for his "pure Being" — the symbolic brother, not the man.
Love (n.) 'for myself' is a mirage: wanting to be loved for oneself means barring everything one signifies.
Love (n.) is the notion that I love something in you more than yourself, and therefore when I love you I destroy you.
Love (n.) life is doubled by the object that keeps returning and must always be rediscovered as unique.
Love (n.) is, in its essence, a love of weakness — giving what one doesn't have, namely what might make good that original weakness.
Love (n.) comes, to our great surprise, not from the heart like the drives but from the belly — from the world of yum-yum.
Love (n.) is blind and makes a man lay down his arms; hatred is lucid, but it wakes his suspicions.
Love (n.) works out more or less okay between man and woman thanks to a trick that makes it possible by first making it insoluble.
Love (n.) rarely comes to grief on the real qualities or faults of the loved one; those are more like pretexts.
Love (n.) in the psychotic can abolish him as subject because it admits a radically foreign Other — but this love is a dead love.
Love (n.) is governed not by meaning but by the sign, as in everything else — therein lies the whole catastrophe.
Love (n.) owes much to the symbol: some people would never have fallen in love had they never heard love spoken of.
Love (n.) is loving one's own ego, made real on the imaginary level — Werther sees Lotte cuddling a child and the image triggers his fatal attachment.