Love is

. . . a happy package from across the ocean filled with so much love, and thought and care. Inside, everything that makes me smile - perfectly chosen. So much of her, and so much of me, merged.

I read the letter she wrote me, and I wonder how long I can hold on to it. I don't want to let it go. She touched it.

Thank you, my Love.
:heart:
 
Love is...

drive safe....you have the right tools....helping out when nobody else will....believing you when every body else says your a liar.....


And a million other ways fathers say it to sons without ever saying it.


Once said to the old man...he said have a good day. he is getting there....so am I for that matter... :cool:
 
The flute of interior time is played whether we hear it or not,
What we mean by "love" is its sound coming in.
When love hits the farthest edge of excess, it reaches a wisdom.
And the fragrance of that knowledge!
It penetrates our thick bodies,
it goes through walls --
Its network of notes has a structure as if a million suns were arranged inside.

This tune has truth in it.
Where else have you heard a sound like this?

-- Kabir (translated by Robert Bly )
 
Having my own personal firework rocket set off for me by a friend, and hearing it all over the phone . . . I love you, crazy Bitch. :heart: :kiss:

Being serenaded over the phone . . . "Aint no sunshine, when she's gone . . . " I love you, crazy Bitch. :heart: :kiss:
 
hot enough to burn you,
sharp enough to cut you,
deep enough to take away your breath
unforgiving enough to shred your heart
strong enough to withstand it.
 
Love is: always being in the right place at the right time.
 
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Go home and write the story again. Keep writing it because one day she will read it. You can change the story. You are the story.

No date line, no meridian, no gas-burnt stars, no transit of the planets, not the orbit of the earth nor the sun's red galaxy, tell time here. Love is keeper of the clocks.

I took off my watch and dropped it into the water.
Time take it.
Your face, your hands, the movement of your body . . .
Your body is my Book of Hours.
Open it. Read it.
This is the true history of the world.

Jeanette Winterson: The Powerbook
 
What you ultimately decide upon
Is up to you
It should not be any other way.
But please do not change
What breathes deep inside
For it does not need changing.
 
Souls embrace, in those deep, dark, quiet intimate moments of sharing. When you share yourself with another, with no boundaries or limitations, it's that intellectual, yet emotional caress that nudges the soul to search for its point and counterpoint.
 
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