Quotes About Love

Stay focused on what is beautiful and abundant even as illness carves more and more of what you love away

clearly, I am going to need a lot more practice—practice in being present, practice in feeling my feelings and in letting them go, practice in loving, in accepting, and especially practice in holding those most dear to me with a lighter touch. At least I have learned this: It all is a practice. I just have to show up and keep on practicing. Breathe. Relax. Feel. Watch. Allow.

If grief and gratitude are kindred emotions, two sides of a coin, than courage is what it takes to accommodate both at once, to stay focused on what is beautiful and abundant even as illness carves more and more of what you love away. Pg 26

My real task is not to try to reinvent myself or to transcend my life after all, but to inhabit it more fully, to appreciate it, and to thoughtfully tend whats already here. .. embracing and welcoming the person I actually am and quietly making the contribution I have to offer- whether its a manuscript page or an email to my old next-door neighbor. What matters is not the grandness of the gesture, but its source. If I do my work, all of it, with love, then it is worthy.

I was so busy trying to figure out what I should be doing that I couldn't see the truth: All I really needed to do was focus on who I wanted to be. Love is the gift I've had to offer all along, in all its different forms. I just didn't ever quite believe that it-or I- was enough.

Un dia, mientras escribia una carta, Otoko abrio el diccionario para consultar el ideograma 'pensar'. Al repasar los restantes significados (añorar, ser incapaz de olvidar, estar triste) sintio que el corazon se le encogia. Tuvo miedo de tocar el diccionario... Aun ahi estaba Oki. Innumerables palabras se lo recordaban. Vincular todo lo que veia y oia con su amor equivalia a estar viva. La conciencia de su propio cuerpo era inseparable del recuerdo de aquel abrazo.

my love cannot negate the words of my mouth and the righteousness I require.

Not loving you—that would hurt more.

Instead, she got one of the books off her dresser and sat in the eading chair, stretching out her legs and gently resting her feet on he bed. She sat there gazing at Luke's sleeping face for a long ime, then stirred and opened her book. Softly, she murmured, You aren't in my future, Luke. Unless I put you there.

We must love all of creation, not only what is common. A god may have the head of an elephant, after all.

Like a lot of people, she thought love solved everything: just smear it over the problem, and it'll all work out. Then they had the arrogance to pity you if you saw things more rationally.

Chaos and intensity are no substitute for lasting love, nor are they necessarily an improvement on real life.

Look to the living, love them, and hold on.

I lost a great innocence when I understood that I and my mind were not going to be on good terms for the rest of my life. I can't tell you how tired I am of character-building experiences. But I treasure this part of me; whoever loves me loves me with this in it.

It was as if my father had given me, by way of temperament, an impossibly wild, dark, and unbroken horse. It was a horse without a name, and a horse with no experience of a bit between its teeth. My mother taught me to gentle it; gave me the discipline and love to break it; and- as Alexander had known so intuitively with Bucephalus- she understood, and taught me, that the beast was best handled by turning it toward the sun.

I was late to understand that chaos and intensity are no subsitute for lasting love, nor are they necessarily an improvement on real life. Normal people are not always boring. On the contrary. Volatility and passion, although often more romantic and enticing, are not intrinsically preferable to a steadiness of experience and feeling about another person.

We all build internal sea walls to keep at bay the sadnesses of life and the often overwhelming forces within our minds... But love is, to me, the ultimately more extraordinary part of the breakwater wall: it helps to shut out the terror and awfulness, while, at the same time, allowing in life and beauty and vitality.

But if love is not the cure, it certainly can act as a very strong medicine.

lost a great innocence when I understood that I and my mind were not going to be on good terms for the rest of my life. I can't tell you how tired I am of character-building experiences. But I treasure this part of me; whoever loves me loves me with this in it.

No amount of love can cure madness or unblacken one's dark moods. Love can help, it can make the pain more tolerable, but, always, one is beholden to medication that may or may not always work and may or may not be bearable..... But if love is not the cure, it certainly can act as a strong medicine. As John Donne has written, it is not so abstract as one might have thought and wished, but it does endure, and it does grow.

No amount of love can cure madness or unblacken one's dark moods.

Madness, on the other hand, most certainly can, and often does, kill love through its mistrustfulness, unrelenting pessimism, discontents, erratic behavior, and, especially, through its savage moods. The sadder, sleepier, slower, and less volatile depressions are more intuitively understood and more easily taken in stride. A quiet melancholy is neither threatening nor beyond ordinary comprehension; an angry, violent, vexatious despair is both.

But it has been precisely that persevering steadiness of my mother, her belief in seeing things through, and her great ability to love and learn, listen and change, that helped keep me alive through all of the years of pain and nightmare that were to come.

It is the history of our kindnesses that alone makes this world tolerable," wrote Robert Louis Stevenson. "If it were not for that, for the effect of kind words, kind looks, kind letters Ã¢â'¬Â¦ I should be inclined to think our life a practical jest in the worst possible spirit.