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.

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.

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

Mortal love is when sensuality is satisfied. True love is when love is sacrificed.

Mortal love is when sensuality is satisfied. True love is when love is sacrificed.

Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.

Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.

Love isn't an emotion or an instinct--it's an art.

Love isn't an emotion or an instinct--it's an art.

A kind and compassionate act is often its own reward.

A kind and compassionate act is often its own reward.

Tenderness is a virtue.

Tenderness is a virtue.

I will tell you the truth as soon as I figure it out.

I will tell you the truth as soon as I figure it out.