Love is not always fireworks and magic. Often we’ll experience it in the form of patience, acceptance, loyalty, and mutual respect.
A life without books is like body without a soul.
Martha: Oh, I like your anger. I think that’s what I like about you most. Your anger.
A young boy who has not fallen desperately in love has missed getting started in the world of feeling. At any age love is wrong only if it means nothing… You must be the criterion of any love…There’s only one test… Does the love you feel make you a bigger and a stronger person?… (I)f any love makes you stronger and more determined to share, then it’s much finer than most people ever attain.
it (romantic love) really isn’t about two people who have fallen madly for each other; it’s about two people seeing spirit in each other.
We were there, together, and in the next room I could hear that monitor beeping. Keeping track of another heart’s beat and giving enduring, solid proof of our own.
The story of their coming to be shapen after the average and fit to be packed by the gross, is hardly ever told even in their consciousness; for perhaps their ardour in generous unpaid toil cooled as imperceptibly as the ardour of other youthful loves, till one day their earlier self walked like a ghost in its old home and made the new furniture ghastly… Lydgate did not mean to be one of those failures, and there was the better hope of him because his scientific interest soon took the form of a professional enthusiasm
You are the sum total of what you have seen and learned, but underneath that is a core being, a usually untouchable being, that makes you who you truly are. It can make a person into a great peacemaker like Ghandi, or a serial killer like Ted Bundy, but it is immutable. That core holds both our deepest darkness and our greatest light. It’s the harmonies layered on top of that core melody that make us who we are from day to day.
I love Africa……. Each day each breath, she consumes me. I have never changed so much In such a short time Each day I feel more part of her. Her colour, smell, her smiles , the ever changing landscapes. Vast deserts rolling hills plaines & Mountains. Her beauty and her majesty. Like sweet wine flowing through my veins, my heart sings as I wave to all those faces going by. Back home to my Grandmothers Birth place. They said “welcome home
Boiled down, isn’t love just a form of vanity? You know, the wish to be adored. To be the absolute center for someone else.