“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”
— Captain Corelli’s Mandolin
October 2012
2 posts
“…there are around every life a series of huge nearnesses, a whole invisible world that we can’t see with the eye, but that is absolutely crucial to who we are…the imagination is the faculty that brings you in touch with these presences that are around your life. That’s where I think the divine and the soul and the magic of the world between us—all the world of between-ness—that’s where they all reside. The nature of the heart, of course, is that it is always dreaming of the beyond. The heart is imbued and inflamed with longing. And this is the source of all creativity. Creativity derives from the disturbance of longing in us. I think that’s what faith is. Faith is helpless attraction to the divine.”
—John O’Donohue
August 2012
25 posts
Woman Without a Conscience
A femme fatale is not a woman you should marry. She seduces for her own power and pleasure. She is like the night—mysterious, solicitous. She promises life only through death, an intimacy that can’t be bargained with. What is raw and ravenous can only be sated when the mistress meets the bride, the holy virgin within. Until then, stay away from a woman without a conscience. - M.A. McLellan
“When you shoot an arrow of truth, dip its point in honey.”
—Arabian Proverb (via selflessheart)
“I have no right to call myself one who knows. I was one who seeks, and I still am, but I no longer seek in the stars or in books; I’m beginning to hear the teachings of my blood pulsing within me. My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.”
—
Hermann Hesse, Demian (via light-essence)
