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How many time do I love, again?
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver read more
How many time do I love, again?
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain
Unravelled from the trembling main
And threading the eye of a yellow star:--
So many time do I love again.
Love must not touch the marrow of the soul. Our affections must be breakable chains that we can cast them read more
Love must not touch the marrow of the soul. Our affections must be breakable chains that we can cast them off or tighten them.
Family love is messy, clinging, and of an annoying and repetitive pattern, like bad wallpaper.
Family love is messy, clinging, and of an annoying and repetitive pattern, like bad wallpaper.
Love is the delusion that one woman differs from another.
Love is the delusion that one woman differs from another.
Women love men for their defects; if men have enough of them, women will forgive them anything, even their gigantic read more
Women love men for their defects; if men have enough of them, women will forgive them anything, even their gigantic intellects.
A lady of forty-seven who had been married twenty-seven years and has six children knows what love really is and read more
A lady of forty-seven who had been married twenty-seven years and has six children knows what love really is and once described it for me like this: 'Love is what you've been through with somebody.'.
The world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love. We can never really read more
The world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love. We can never really love anybody with whom we never laugh. Love is in the giver, not the gift. He told me that once he forgot himself and opened up like a door with a loose latch and everything fell out and he tried for days to put it all back in the proper order, but he finally gave up and left if there in a pile and loved everything equally. thanks to a subscriber!
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting read more
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
rnAbsence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
rnAbsence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.
