Quotes About Love

Please lie down. Take off your shirt. Open your mouth. Take a deep breath Ã¢â'¬Â¦ The language of love was the same as the language of medicine

Tizitash zeweter wode ene eye metah. I can't help thinking about you.

Just as the English missionaries discovered when they came to India, there was no better way to carry Christ's love than through stupes and poultices, liniments and dressings, cleansing and comfort.

the sweetness of life is sure in only two things: love and sugar. If you don't get enough of the first, have more of the second!

Sisters of the Nigrizia

Make your life something beautiful for God.

A daughter has an open door into a father's heart.

Marion, I know you think I favored Shiva Ã¢â'¬Â¦ And maybe I did. What can I say but that I'm sorry. A mother loves her children equally Ã¢â'¬Â¦ but sometimes one child needs more help, more attention, to get by in the world. Shiva needed that.

What can success look like now? Janakiram has the answer. "Success is not money! Success is you are fully loving what you are doing. That only is success!

Success is you are fully loving what you are doing. That only is success!

He thinks of his loving sister, and the narrow, confined life she lived that never seemed that way to her, and how much she enriched their lives. He was her "precious baby," never aging for her, just as she never aged. Strangers might feel sorry for Baby Mol, but if they'd understood how happy she was, how fully she lived in the present, inhabiting each second, they'd have been envious.

She listens. She knows he has heard her. Because, as was always his way, he expresses his love for her the only way he knows how: through his silence.

Odat Kochamma is the tonic Parambil needs. The old lady is ceaseless in her toil. Within a week, Big Ammachi comes to rely on being fussed at, told to sit down and rest, or made to laugh so hard she has to pee.

Secrecy lives in the same rooms as loneliness. His secret and his failing is that after his mother's betrayal he cannot risk love.

she offered her arms, her hands, her kisses . . . and her willingness to be wounded.

you forgave me long ago. Why would I not do the same? So, whatever it is, I forgive you." She rises, touches his cheek, kisses him on his forehead

This is, after all, his own nightmare, though in his dream the culprit is always leprosy. He is overcome. He takes a deep breath. The journey the two of them embark on together must begin with love, Rune thinks. To love the sick—isn't that always the first step?

Flattery isn't the right word for his portrait. It's empathy—the same quality in the sculptures that surround them. The ancient artists were devotees above all else. Without love of their subject, they'd just be cutting stone; their adoration is what brings it to life.

He alone amongst all the people she knows uses his two ears and one mouth in that exact proportion. She loves him in a way she

there was never anything healing one could say. One could only be. The best friends in such times were those who had no agenda other than to be present, to offer themselves

Missing hearts, missing people, missing souls, torn between distance and love. Were bound to stay together, no matter what, but god did it turns to leave them with the love for each other. Oh, the love, trust me, will never end. For me, he was my only, heart's mend.

I remembered what had been circling in me: I am beautiful. I am full of love. I am dying.

Look, we are not unspectacular things. We've come this far, survived this much. What would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?

I denied it, this new land. But love, I'll concede this: whatever state you are, I'll be that state's bird, the loud, obvious blur of song people point to when they wonder where it is you've gone.