Real love is always tough. False love is very lucrative, very charming—oh, there is such a romance around it. But then, that romance is hardly love.
Real love tests. Real love stretches, breaks. Real love is like a sculptor carving a beautiful one out of an unseemly rock. The rock must go through, suffer a lot of hits of the sculptors tools. Without suffering at the hands of the sculptor, no rock can ever turn into a beautiful piece of art.
When you help someone else’s life take a beautiful shape, then you are loving the other. When you help your own life turn beautiful, then you are loving yourself.