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For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, read more
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.
True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. There is read more
True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.
Women have no sympathy and my experience of women is almost as large as Europe.
Women have no sympathy and my experience of women is almost as large as Europe.
Love is like a balloon.. when you push your relationship with someone forward it is like blowing up the balloon. read more
Love is like a balloon.. when you push your relationship with someone forward it is like blowing up the balloon. If you blow too hard and too fast, the balloon pops and likewise the relationship breaks. But if you take things slowly and let the balloon of love stretch on its own, it grows into a huge, prosperous balloon, full of love. Also, if you don't push the relationship at all, or at least hold it at the same level it was at, the air will flow out of the balloon, deflating it, and your love will shrivel up and become flat & lifeless. So when you are in love, push the relationship forward slowly and gently and the balloon will grow comfortably into a strong, immense love.
The fate of love is that it always seems too little or too much.
The fate of love is that it always seems too little or too much.
To really know someone is to have loved and hated him in turn.
To really know someone is to have loved and hated him in turn.
Warm weather fosters growth: cold weather destroys it. Thus a man with an unsympathetic temperament has a scant joy: but read more
Warm weather fosters growth: cold weather destroys it. Thus a man with an unsympathetic temperament has a scant joy: but a man with a warm and friendly heart overflowing blessings, and his beneficence will extend to posterity.
Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn read more
Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.
Love is only the game that is not called on account of darkness.
Love is only the game that is not called on account of darkness.
