One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life,
That word is Love !
Only love let's us see normal things In an extraordinary way.
Love is not a matter of counting the years...
But making the years count.
Love doesn't start in morning and end in evening.
It starts when you don't need it and ends when you need it most.
Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time,
destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end.
Love doesn't sit there like a stone, it has to be made,
like bread; remade all of the time, made new.
Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place.
True love is a discipline in which each divines the secret self of
the other and refuses to believe in the mere daily self.
The arms of love encompass you with your present, your past,
your future, the arms of love gather you together.
Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly.
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.
Hearts are not to be had as a gift
Hearts are to be earned...
That word is Love !
Only love let's us see normal things In an extraordinary way.
Love is not a matter of counting the years...
But making the years count.
Love doesn't start in morning and end in evening.
It starts when you don't need it and ends when you need it most.
Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time,
destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end.
Love doesn't sit there like a stone, it has to be made,
like bread; remade all of the time, made new.
Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place.
True love is a discipline in which each divines the secret self of
the other and refuses to believe in the mere daily self.
The arms of love encompass you with your present, your past,
your future, the arms of love gather you together.
Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly.
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.
Hearts are not to be had as a gift
Hearts are to be earned...
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