What is love like?

Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and how could I not write about love?
Reflecting on the past, I find imprints of both old and new love. The new love, in particular, involves my journey into reading and studying Romeo and Juliet and A Midsummer Night's Dream.

The lyrical beauty of blank verses fragrances my soul, leaving a trail that touches the depths of my being. The soliloquies and monologues don't feel like mere dialogues; instead, they resonate as slivers of my own heart, hiding deep somewhere.

A poignant tale of star-crossed lovers, celebrating the exquisite joy of youthful passion. Even its tragic ending stresses on the poignancy of that brief beauty and the bitter futility of love. The dominant imagery in the play evokes a sense of suddenness and violence, intensifying the fragility of the love depicted. The lovers, in their passionate attachment to one another, aren't extraordinary, yet their love stands out. Fate and destiny loom large over the star-crossed lovers, paving the way for tragedy. Hasty decisions and love at first sight become tools through which destiny toys with their fates. The melancholy fashion and the act of serenading evoke an immediate sense of melting emotions.

And the balcony scene.

Romeo: He jest at scars that never felt a wound.
               But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
               It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
               Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon. (Act 2.Scene 2)

Juliet: My only love sprung from my only hate!
      Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
      Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
      That I must love a loathed enemy. (Act 1. Scene 5)

I wish I could love like Juliet.

And the most loved lines by Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Helena: Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. ( Act 1. Scene 1)

And the Zeffirelli version of Romeo and Juliet... which I can watch over and over, crying the same amount of tears at the graveyard scene.

Shakespeare in Love, although part fictional. I wish it was not. But all in all, everything leaves me dazed!

So, what is love truly like?

Is it the fervent passion of the fourteen-year-old Juliet?

Or does it mirror Hermia's, aspiring to and consummated in marriage?

Perhaps it's sacrificial, like Viola De Lesseps's love for Shakespeare.

Perhaps, defining love takes a lifetime.

P.S. References: Romeo and Juliet (Bantam Classics)