True love isn’t found.

It’s carved.

Carved out of sacrifice. Carved out of covenant. Carved out of two dying to the loneliness of self to be made into one.

You and I, we could let our feet find each other’s under the cotton sheets and we could carve into forever together.

Before there is no more me here, before there’s no more you here —

we could let the rest be carved away until there’s only the glory of a wrinkled love left.

Ann Voskamp, The Real Love Stories and Why There Really Are No Blurred Lines