When we were together, I loved you deeply and you gave me so much

Hear the tender and noble words of Arthur Ashe, a man whose grace on and off the field made him a champion not only in sport, but in spirit: “When we were together, I loved you deeply and you gave me so much happiness I can never repay you.” These words are the whisper of a heart that has known both love and loss, both the sweetness of closeness and the ache of parting. They carry the humility of gratitude and the weight of remembrance — the acknowledgment that some gifts of the soul are too vast for repayment, that love, when true, transcends the balance of giving and receiving.

The origin of this quote lies in the life of Arthur Ashe, the first Black man to win the U.S. Open, Wimbledon, and the Australian Open — a man who faced the fiercest opponents not only across the net, but within the corridors of life itself. His journey was one of courage: he rose from the segregated courts of Virginia to the grand stages of the world, always carrying himself with calm dignity. But beyond his triumphs as an athlete, Ashe was a man of compassion, a husband, a father, and a thinker. He uttered these words in reflection on the love he had shared — a love that endured through illness, through distance, through time. It was not merely romantic love he spoke of, but love as a sacred force — that which uplifts, sustains, and humbles the soul.

In Ashe’s life, this truth was lived, not spoken alone. When he was stricken by illness — after contracting HIV through a medical procedure — he faced the end of his days with extraordinary serenity. While the world expected bitterness, he spoke instead of gratitude. He remembered the love that had surrounded him, the people who had given him happiness, and he declared himself rich beyond measure. His words remind us that love’s true value lies not in possession, but in memory — not in how long it lasts, but in how deeply it transforms. Even when love ends, it leaves behind a sacred residue: the quiet knowledge that one’s life was touched by grace.

The ancients, too, knew this truth. Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor, wrote that every joy we experience should be held as a gift, not as a guarantee. To love deeply, he said, is to accept impermanence — to recognize that all beauty passes, but that it remains eternal in the soul’s memory. So too did Arthur Ashe understand that love is not measured by time, but by depth. To say “I can never repay you” is not to confess weakness, but to honor the magnitude of another’s gift. Gratitude is the truest form of love’s continuation — the way we keep alive what once was, long after the moment has passed.

Consider also the tale of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the author of The Little Prince. During his exile in wartime, he wrote letters to his beloved, knowing he might never return. In one such letter, he said, “Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.” Like Ashe, he understood that love’s highest form is not possession but shared purpose, not endless comfort but mutual growth. Both men — separated by era and calling — saw that love is sacred work: it molds us, teaches us, and leaves behind the finest parts of who we are.

The power of Arthur Ashe’s words lies in their humility. In a world that often treats love as a transaction, he reminds us that the greatest loves are those that leave us in awe. When he says he “can never repay,” he speaks as one who understands that love is not debt but blessing. To love deeply is to be forever indebted to life itself — to those rare souls who awaken our better nature, who fill us with happiness not of the fleeting kind, but of the eternal. Such love asks not for repayment, only remembrance, only reverence.

So let this be the lesson carried forward: cherish those who have brought light into your life. Do not measure love by what you have given or received, but by what you have become because of it. When you part from those you love — by distance, by time, or by death — do not grieve the end, but give thanks for the happiness shared. Speak, as Arthur Ashe did, words of gratitude, for gratitude is love’s afterglow, the flame that burns even after the sun has set.

And finally, O seeker, remember this: the heart that can say, “I loved you deeply, and you gave me so much happiness I can never repay you,” is a heart that has lived fully. For life’s truest wealth is not gold or glory, but the warmth of human connection — the unspoken joy of having loved and been loved in return. Guard that truth, and you will walk in the quiet splendor of eternity, rich beyond measure.