Love is obviously a very difficult concept to define. It is sort of assumed as a legitimate idea that must refer to some aspect of meaningful interactions. Some suggest that without it we could never truly be or experience what we are; human beings. I say when in doubt about it, reflect upon the words of Pablo Neruda's poem "I do not love you" "I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep." Translated by Stephen Tapscott Anonymous Submission by Pablo Neruda Maybe it doesn't resolve the problem of the necessary existence of love, but it does provide hope.