Nicolas de Angelis - Quelques Notes Pour Anna
Daniel Ridgway Knight Art
Love one human being purely and warmly, and you will love all.
The heart in this heaven, like the wandering sun, sees nothing,
from the dewdrop to the ocean, but a mirror which it warms and fills.
Jean Paul F. Richter.
Love requires not so much proofs, as expressions, of Love. Love demands
little else than the power to feel and to requite love.
To love all mankind, from the greatest to the lowest (or meanest), a cheerful state of being is required; but in order to see into mankind, into life, and, still more, into ourselves, suffering is requisite.
Jean Paul F. Richter.
Love is the expression of one's values, the greatest reward you can earn for the moral qualities you have achieved in your character and person, the emotional price paid by one man for the joy he receives from the virtues of another.
Ayn Rand, "Atlas Shrugged"
The things we own, the places we live, the events of our lives: empty settings.
How easy to chase after settings, and forget diamonds! The only thing that
matters, at the end of a stay on earth, is how well did we love, what was
the quality of our love?
Richard Bach, "The Bridge Across Forever
Life is short and we never have enough time for the hearts of those who travel the way with us. O, be swift to love! Make haste to be kind.
Henri-Frédéric Amiel
Hatred is increased by being reciprocated, and can on the other hand be destroyed by love. Hatred which is completely vanquished by love, passes into love; and love is thereupon greater, than if hatred had not preceded it.
Baruch Spinoza
Even in evil, that dark cloud which hangs over the creation, we discern rays of light and hope, and gradually come to see in suffering and temptation proofs and instruments of the sublimest purposes of wisdom and love.
William Ellery Channing
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Anaïs Nin
Andrei Belichenko Art
Love Song
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
Rainer Maria Rilke
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
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