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And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets read more
And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything As You Like It, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose and it's always daisy-time.
The fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose.
The fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose.
As clouds are blown away by the wind, the thirst for material pleasures will be driven away by the utterance read more
As clouds are blown away by the wind, the thirst for material pleasures will be driven away by the utterance of the Lord's name.
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.
The force of truth that a statement imparts, then, its prominence among the hordes of recorded observations that I may read more
The force of truth that a statement imparts, then, its prominence among the hordes of recorded observations that I may optionally apply to my own life, depends, in addition to the sense that it is argumentatively defensible, on the sense that someone like me, and someone I like, whose voice is audible and who is at least notionally in the same room with me, does or can possibly hold it to be compellingly true.
A meeting between two people who complete each other, who are made for each other, borders already, in my opinion, read more
A meeting between two people who complete each other, who are made for each other, borders already, in my opinion, on a miracle.
An isolated outbreak of virginity is a rash on the face of society. It arouses only pity from the married, read more
An isolated outbreak of virginity is a rash on the face of society. It arouses only pity from the married, and embarrassment from the single.
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the read more
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.
Between truth and the search for it, I choose the second.
Between truth and the search for it, I choose the second.
