What's worth dying for?

I was once asked, "What's worth dying for?" At the time I could think of nothing and so I said nothing. The person who had asked me nodded in understanding and said, "You can't come up with an answer can you... There is nothing worth your life. Not even another life itself, not even love." I shuddered, because hate had filled her face when she had said the second half of that sentence. I couldn't imagine why she would have that expression toward such a strong emotion like love... I had no answers for her.
I was asked, once again, by the same person, the exact same question. It was three years later. I was not as naive when she asked me a second time. I had answers now. "What would I give my life for? I would die for the sight of his smile, to see him smile at me... oh, I would miss that. I would die for the sound of his heartbeat against mine in the darkness, the sound of his breath while he sleeps, slow and steady. I would die for the smell of him as he hugs me, the taste of his kiss... the feel of his touch... I would die to protect exactly how it felt to be connected in such a way... that you never would think that you were worthy enough to feel this way, to have this. To love. I would die for love, and whether you believe me or not, well, that is your matter. And while you stand there shaking with the fury you don't have a right to, I only stand here silently, thinking that you have no right to be angry."
She was shaking. "You don't know what love is." She really spat that at me. And I heard the dial tone. Love is a good thing to die for, and if you don't believe me, where did the stories all start?