killer for love

Love comes without invitation or warning, and leaves the same way. So why would anyone spend a minute waiting for it? And why chase it? Except how can you deny how elemental love is, especially as you value solitude and knowledge more and more with age? The more you study, the more you know you don't know, the more love shines as something to admire or celebrate but not to possess or clutch. Letting love go is the best way to find out who you are, and how capable you may be in making love or rescuing it when it calls out for help, and asks that only lovers respond to its troubles. But here I am, putting a human sense onto an emotion that has evolved to help society survive and procreate. And I do this because I am impressed into creating a piece of literature that explains love and defends it only when it is capable of destruction, because to feel it as a comfort is an insult to what loving means: love kills you, if you are very lucky and very brave. Who expresses this? Why?