Love: a working definition

For a few weeks, shiny red hearts have grown lushly out of every corner of every store; foil-wrapped flowers and red plastic lips and pink and white and purple fuzzy, twinkly, satin-y hearts quickly and thoroughly invaded the last bastion of public space and ruled the known world. But as Valentine's Day fades to make room for lilliput eggs and stuffed bunnies, I have been mulling this question: What is love, really? Here is, as promised, my working definition:
Love happens when i make the choice to serve another at my own expense.
Who among you has felt the rush of consolation that comes to one who stands with open arms when he most wants to hold on tight? Who knows the strange pleasure that underlies the bitterness of losing what he desperately wants for the sake of the one he loves; or the rising joy in the heart of the one who takes the difficult road to give rest to the one he loves? This is the strange paradox of love: he who seeks his own pleasure loses it, becoming more and more trapped; while he who seeks another's pleasure finds joy at the heart of pain.
The Bible says that though I give my body to be burned, having not love, it gets me nowhere. Only love is enough for God. Only love. Let us love deeply, without thought for the tender self whose death knell rings as love takes flight. Let us love, unafraid of the cost!