To make love is to give birth to death.
It was love without reason, love for something futureless, love that appeared to exist only to be itself, imperious and all demanding, the kind that would cause him to make a fool of himself in an instant.
They were the prisoners hidden in different cages, and yet they saw each other every day. He named her fire and she named him the wind, the day they both touched and embraced each other they burnt down everything that stood in their way.
Hatred imprisons the haters; love opens doors.
I knelt and locked the door. I locked the door locking the world and time outside. I stretched my body across the mattress and Saskia drew in close to me and placed her open hand on my chest, her mouth near my shoulder; her breath, my breath blew out the candle, and I held my lost Wanderess with tenderness until sweet sleep overcame us.
He couldn’t just come right out with it, could he? No, that would scare her off. He had to be subtle, build up to it. Explain himself.
“I love you.
Express your unconditional love; kindle someone’s heart. It will leave a permanent mark; you will never be apart.
The greatest terror a child can have is that he is not loved, and rejection is the hell he fears. I think everyone in the world to a large or small extent has felt rejection. And with rejection comes anger, and with anger some kind of crime in revenge for the rejection, and with the crime guilt-and there is the story of mankind. I think that if rejection could be amputated, the human would not be what he is.
What’s the use of falling in love if you both remain inertly as you were?
Sometimes you like to keep things bottled up, but that is not the best policy.