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Both light and shadow are the dance of Love. Love has no cause; it is the astrolabe of God’s secrets. Lover and Loving are inseparable and timeless. Although I may try to describe Love when I experience it I am speechless. Although I may try to write about Love I am rendered helpless; my pen breaks and the paper slips away at the ineffable place where Lover, Loving and Loved are one. Every moment is made glorious by the light of Love. ~Rumi |
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
But if your love and must needs have desires, Let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook That sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart And give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer For the beloved in your heart And a song of praise upon your lips. ~Khalil Gibran :rose: |
Edgar Allan Poe A dream within s dream Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep - while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? |
An exerpt leaves of grass (Whitman)
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume; For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my Soul; I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass. Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes; I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it; The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless; It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it; I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked; I am mad for it to be in contact with me. The smoke of my own breath; Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine; My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs; The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore, and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn; The sound of the belch’d words of my voice, words loos’d to the eddies of the wind; A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms; The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag; The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides; The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems; You shall possess the good of the earth and sun—(there are millions of suns left) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books; You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me: You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from yourself. |
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Yes! one of my all time favouites as well.... Rook, very fine choice! |
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Again dear Rook....beautiful choice. I think if ppl lived by this, then there would fewer broken hearts and wounded souls in the world. |
I love your dear eyes, my friend,
With their play so bright and wondrous, When you promptly rise them, and, Like with a lightning in the wildness, Embrace at once the whole land. But there's more fabulous attraction: The eyes directed to the floor During the crazy osculation, And through the lashes, set before, The dusk and gloomy flame of passion. --Fyodor Tyutchev translated : [for bjork/anthony song] I love your eyes, my dear their splendid, sparkling fire when suddenly you raise them so to cast a swift embracing glance like lightning flashing in the sky but there's a charm that is greater still: when my love's eyes are lowered when all is fired by passions kiss and through the downcast lashes I see the dull flame of desire and through the downcast lashes I see the dull flame of desire |
Veronica De Franco
I confess I find more ecstasy in passion than in prayer. Such passion is prayer. I confess I pray still to feel the touch of my lover's lips. His hands upon me, his arms enfolding me... Such surrender has been mine. I confess I pray still to be filled and enflamed. To melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place, to where we are not even ourselves. To know that always, this is mine. If this had not been mine-if I had lived any other way-a child to her husband's will, my soul hardened from lack of touch and lack of love... I confess such endless days and nights would be a punishment far greater than you could ever mete out. You, all of you, you who hunger so for what I give yet cannot bear to see that kind of power in a woman. You call God's greatest gift-ourselves, our yearning, our need to love-you call it filth and sin and heresy... I repent there was no other way open to me. I do not repent my life. |
thom yorke
In pitch dark I go walking in your landscape
Broken branches trip me as I speak There's always a siren singing you to shipwreck (don't reach out, don't reach out) Stay away from these rocks we'd be a walking disaster (don't reach out, don't reach out) There there.. Why so green And lonely Heaven sent you To me We are accidents waiting Waiting to happen We are accidents waiting |
Victoria and Albert
Prince Albert took a bullet for Queen Victoria, his wife. This is a scene from the recent movie based on their lives.
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Maybe not so famous, but it means something to me.
Even in French....my heart still catches in my throat. The Lake House |
"Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life."
Lord Byron |
i carry your heart with me
by e. e. cummings i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) |
Fictional Yet Fabulous.
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Cathy and Heathcliff...
Such beauty and passion. Heathcliff: Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing God or Satan could inflict would have parted us... |
Napoleon Bonaparte to Josephine...
Dec. 29, 1795
I awake all filled with you. Your image and the intoxicating pleasures of last night, allow my senses no rest. Sweet and matchless Josephine, how strangely you work upon my heart. Are you angry with me? Are you unhappy? Are you upset? My soul is broken with grief and my love for you forbids repose. But how can I rest any more, when I yield to the feeling that masters my inmost self, when I quaff from your lips and from your heart a scorching flame? Yes! One night has taught me how far your portrait falls short of yourself! You start at midday: in three hours I shall see you again. Till then, a thousand kisses, mio dolce amor! but give me none back for they set my blood on fire |
Allie- "Why didn't you write to me? WHY? It wasn't over for me, I waited for you for seven years, but now it's too late!" Noah- "I wrote you 365 letters - I wrote you everyday for a year." Allie- "You wrote to me?" Noah- "Yes... it wasn't over, it still isn't over" (Noah kisses Allie in the rain) |
To Josephine Bonaparte-- A few days ago I thought I loved you; but since I last saw you I feel I love you a thousand times more. All the time I have known you I adore you more each day; that just shows how wrong was La Bruyere's maxim that love comes all at once. Everything in nature has its own life and different stages of growth. I beg you, let me see some of your faults: be less beautiful, less graceful, lees kind, less good... --Napolean Bonaparte (1769-1821) Editted to add: What a wonderful thread! |
To Sarah Helen Whitman: Yes, I now feel that it was then on that evening of sweet dreams--that the very first dawn of human love burst upon the icy night of my spirit. Since that period I have never seen nor heard your name without a shiver half of delight, half of anxiety... For years your name never passed my lips, while my soul drank in, with a delirious thirst, all that was uttered in my presence respecting you. --Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849) |
About Elinor Frost; She has been the unspoken half of everything I ever wrote, and both halves of many a thing... --Robert Frost (1874-1963) |
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