It’s one of Buddy Holly’s greatest recordings, later covered by an  up-and-coming young British quartet who called themselves The Beatles, and a discussion tonight about the songs “Words of Love” got me to thinking about the many attempts — by songwriters, philosophers, poets, theologians, psychologists  and bartenders — to pin down that elusive butterfly, the perfect definition of love.

Well, here’s my definition and it’s an anti-definition…I say love can’t be described, defined, delineated or declaimed. I say the look of love’s an emotional x-ray, that love’s a feeling beyond feeling, a syncopated beating of hearts, a galloping pulse, a hope with wings, the dream of all dreams, a never-ending link, a gift beyond giving, a red-hot thing shaped on heaven’s perfect anvil. I say love cannot be described with words, that the book of love’s printed with invisible ink.

But here’s Buddy Holly’s gallant attempt:


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