It's great to fall head over heels in love at a fast pace, and

Douglas Booth, in the passion of youth yet with the caution of wisdom, once declared: “It’s great to fall head over heels in love at a fast pace, and nothing’s more romantic, but you need to look after yourself.” These words are like a flame that burns with both heat and light: the fire of romance, and the glow of prudence. For in them is revealed a truth as old as human longing—that love is both the sweetest nectar and the most dangerous wine. To drink deeply without care may lift the soul into ecstasy, but it may also leave the heart shattered if one forgets the duty of self-preservation.

The ancients knew this paradox well. They sang of Eros, the god of love, who strikes swiftly, like an arrow loosed from the bow, igniting passion in an instant. Heroes and maidens alike fell helpless beneath his power, their fates often changed forever by the sudden blaze of desire. Yet alongside Eros stood Sophrosyne, the spirit of self-control, reminding mortals that unbridled passion can consume as easily as it uplifts. Booth’s words echo this ancient balance: romance is glorious, but one must guard the sanctuary of the self.

Consider the tale of Antony and Cleopatra. Their love was fierce, swift, and burning—an empire-shaking passion that dazzled the world. Yet in their haste and surrender to love’s intoxication, they neglected caution, strategy, and self-preservation. Their downfall was not born of lack of love, but of too much of it, untempered by wisdom. Their story, immortalized in history and drama, is both a hymn to romance and a warning: passion without balance may destroy the very lives it seeks to uplift.

But let us also remember stories of love that flourished with care. The marriage of Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning, for example, was not only a union of passion but also of mutual respect, patience, and self-care. Elizabeth, frail in health, did not cast herself away in blind abandon, but allowed love to be her strength, not her undoing. Their devotion grew not from recklessness, but from the wise tending of each other’s hearts. This shows us that love, though sudden and fast, can endure if nourished with care.

Booth’s words carry not a denial of passion, but a reminder of balance. To fall swiftly in love is human, even divine; it is to be caught in a current stronger than oneself. Yet even as we are swept along, we must not lose sight of the shore. The self is the vessel that carries love; if we neglect it, the vessel cracks, and both love and life are lost to the storm. True romance is not only the giving of oneself but the wise keeping of oneself, so that one may give more deeply, more enduringly.

The lesson for us is clear: rejoice in romance, but remember your own worth. Do not abandon your health, your dreams, your peace of mind in the pursuit of love. Care for yourself as you would care for the beloved, for in doing so, you make your love stronger, more lasting, more noble. Self-care is not selfishness—it is the ground upon which the garden of love can grow.

So, children of the heart, hear this counsel: when love comes like lightning, let it strike, let it thrill you, let it carry you beyond reason. But do not forget to tend your flame, lest it burn out too quickly. Guard your spirit, guard your strength, for in doing so, you will find a love not only fast and romantic, but enduring and true. And remember always Booth’s wisdom: fall in love, but look after yourself. In this balance lies the secret to both passion and peace.