The meaning of life is to love. Always has been, always will be. We just keep asking what the meaning of life is because we have so little idea of what love is. But what is there to understand? If we finally knew, if it were clear to us just what love is — for that is why we are here — if we did not then love, what has been gained? What good to know why if it is to no consequence? On the flipside, there are some of us who do it, who unabashedly love, who need never ask why: for they know without knowing what is this mystery, deeper than death: what is love? To love is to know what love is, even if we cannot express it, and that is the clue. We need not ask how, if we think of it; we know how to love, we know exactly what it means, and what it is not. To ask, to seek the meaning of life is a quest to be loved. But the answer lies not there — answer is to be one who loves, and if you do, you find what you seek, where you knock it is opened, what you asked for has been given you.

That's all you need to know.