Besides, the story is ambivalent and mysterious in its ending. Is this Alkestis returning from down below? Why does she have a veil over her face? Could it be that when we forcefully bring back to life what has been lost through love what we get is only a shate of its former reality? Maybe we can never succeed fully in restoring the soul to life. Maybe she will always be veiled and at least partially shielded from the rigors of actual life. Love demands a submission that is total.
There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.
Helping other people can be a cure not just for those who are in need, but for your soul as well.
When the resurrection sings itself in the robin’s glad song, and bursting buds defy the death grip of winter, and you walk upon the yielding earth near my grave…remember that my soul is not there, but rather it is absent from the body and present with the Lord.
You’re everything to me-you always have been, and you always will be. Always and forever.
But she was seventeen now and not actually dumb. She knew that you could love somebody more than anything and still not love the person all that much, if you were busy with other things.
In that day an educated rich man was acceptable. He might send his sons to college without comment, might wear a vest and white shirt and tie in the daytime of a weekday, might wear gloves and keep his nails clean. And since the lives and practices of rich men were mysterious, who knows what they could use or not use? But a poor man–what need had he for poetry or for painting or for music not fit for singing or dancing?
Let the kindness and the raw, aching beauty of the universe shatter you over and over again. find peace in the knowledge that your whole is composed of the sum of all of your beautifully broken pieces. because breaking is becoming.
And may God better understand and love us, than we, in our weakness, can do him.
He was abominable…and the most alluring, tortured soul I’d ever met.