Love builds up by presupposing that love is present. In this way the one who loves builds up the other, and it is easy enough to presuppose love where it is obviously present. Alas, but love is never completely present in any human being, inasmuch as it is indeed possible to do something else than to presuppose it, to discover some fault and weakness in it. If someone has unlovingly discovered this, he perhaps wants, as we say, to remove it, to pull out the splinter in order to build up love properly. But love builds up. To him who loves much, much is forgiven; but the more perfect the loving one presupposes the love to be, the more perfect a love he loves forth. Among all the relationships in the world, there is no other relationship in which there is such a like for like, in which the result so accurately corresponds to what was presupposed. One raises no objection, does not appeal to experience, because this is indeed unloving, arbitrarily to set a day when the result will now be manifest. Love has no understanding of such things; it is eternally confident of the fulfillment of the presupposition; if this is not the case, then love is on the way to being exhausted.
—Søren Kierkegaard, Works of Love, p. -1