If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.

If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.

It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now read more

It's not till sex has died out between a man and a woman that they can really love. And now I mean affection. Now I mean to be fond of (as one is fond of oneself) --to hope, to be disappointed, to live inside the other heart. When I look back on the pain of sex, the love like a wild fox so ready to bite, the antagonism that sits like a twin beside love, and contrast it with affection, so deeply unrepeatable, of two people who have lived a life together (and of whom one must die) it's the affection I find richer. It's that I would have again. Not all those doubtful rainbow colors.

It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in read more

It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it.

Beauty is an outward gift, which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has been refused.

Beauty is an outward gift, which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has been refused.

The body of a sensualist is the coffin of a dead soul.

The body of a sensualist is the coffin of a dead soul.

Busy bees chased
the bloom chaste
Though
they crawled on her
clothes
her petals unfolded
and those held close
read more

Busy bees chased
the bloom chaste
Though
they crawled on her
clothes
her petals unfolded
and those held close
still ever faithful
to the sun
is the everpure rose
Whether her hue
is violet or rose
Whether she grows
in freedom or rows
ever to God
in waves arose
the love perfume
from the heart of the rose.

To understand is to perceive patterns.

To understand is to perceive patterns.

I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more read more

I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.

Life has always taken place in a tumult without apparent cohesion, but it only finds its grandeur and its reality read more

Life has always taken place in a tumult without apparent cohesion, but it only finds its grandeur and its reality in ecstasy and in ecstatic love.