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Posts Tagged ‘Love’

I am a sculptor, a molder of form.
In every moment I shape an idol.
But then, in front of you, I melt them down
I can rouse a hundred forms
and fill them with spirit,
but when I look into your face,
I want to throw them in the fire.
My souls spills into yours and is blended.
Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance,
I cherish it.
Every drop of blood I spill
informs the earth,
I merge with my Beloved
when I participate in love.
In this house of mud and water,
my heart has fallen to ruins.
Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave.

~Rumi

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This is Love: to fly heavenward,
To rend, every instant, a hundred veils.
The first moment, to renounce life;
The last step, to fare without feet.
To regard this world as invisible,
Not to see what appears to one’s self.
O heart, I said, may it bless thee
To have entered the circle of lovers,
To look beyond the range of the eye,
To penetrate the windings of the bosom!
Whence did this breath come to thee, O my soul,
Whence this throbbing, O my heart?

~Rumi

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I like it when you’re quiet, It’s as is you weren’t here now,
and you heard me froma distance, and my voice couldn’t reach you.
It’s as if your eyes had flown away from you, and as if
your mouth were closed because I leaned to kiss you.

Just as all living things are filled with my soul,
you emerge from all living things filled with the soul of me.
It’s as if, a butterfly in dreams, you were my soul,
and as if you were the soul’s word, melancholy.

I like it when you are quiet. It’s as if you’d gone away now.
And you’d become the keening, the butterfly’s insistence.
And you heard me from a distance and my voice didn’t reach you:
it’s then that what I want is to be quiet with your silence.

It’s then that what I want is to speak to your silence
in a speech as clear as lamplight, as plain as a gold ring.
You are quiet like the night, and like the night you’re star-lit.
Your silences are star-like, they’re a distant and a simple thing.

I like it when you’re quiet. It’s as if you weren’t here now.
As if you were dead now, and sorrowful, and distant.
A word then is sufficient, or a smile, to make me happy,
Happy that it seems so certain that you’re present.

~Pablo Neruda

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The story: Wanda is diagnosed with a terminal illness but it doesn’t have to be a death sentence. With a werewolf and a vampire for best friends, she has options that most ordinary people wouldn’t. As Wanda ponders what to do about her mortality, a former vampire who now works for Wanda, Heath reveals he has secrets, and one of them is that his former blood lust has turned into an old-fashioned lust-for Wanda. And he’s already given up too much to lose the love of his lifetimes.

Opinion: Wanda, Wanda , Wanda…what are we going to do with you? I would be in heaven if I had the option to become immortal if I had a mortal disease, most people would jump at the opportunity but do you know what Wanda does instead of feeling happy? She sits around and awaits death, no pun intended. That is until God’s gift to Wanda lands on her door in form of a freaking hot man who brings her back to life.

I feel sorry for Wanda but at the same time I just want to grab her and knock some sense into her. Why would you want to die when you have the option to remain above earth? For the first part of the book she has this whole air about her that says “I’m so vulnerable, take care of me” when it should actually say “I’m successful at my job and I know it!”.

This only lasts for the first 50 pages or so and then things get better, trust me!

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I want to breathe you in

I’m not talking about perfume or even the sweet odour of your skin

But of the air itself

I want to share your air inhaling what you exhale

I’d like to be that close

Two of us breathing each other as one as that.

~ James Laughlin

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The story: The third installment of Meyer’s vampire-romance series finds “heroine” Bella Swan anxious to become a vampire and live forever with handsome vampire Edward. Obstacles arise when Edward demands marriage and werewolf Jacob declares his love for Bella. Don’t forget the fact that Bella’s life is in danger…again.

Opinion: I’m not sure that this third book was necessary, but when you discover that there is money to make if you prolong the story then the quality has to step back and leave room for quantity.

There is really no character development, other than that we get to read notes that are sent back and forth between Bella and Jacob, which really belittles the characters. They are teenagers not kindergarten children. OK we get that you are hurt Jacob, she didn’t pick you, but did you ever think  that she would?

The fact that Bella is portrayed as this helpless and somewhat stupid girl who can’t take care of herself really sends out the wrong signal to all the young tweens who are diehard fans of this series. She always has to depend on others to save her and she only gets tough when she feels the need to protect her family is such a cliché.

I don’t think you would miss anything important if you skipped reading this book and went right on to read Breaking Dawn instead. This book does not add anything new to the story, in my opinion it’s simply a pocket filler for the author and the publishing company.

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I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

~Pablo Neruda

Photo copyright : olde-fashioned

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