When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to 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 desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. It is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. For 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. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is!
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
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment