Posts tagged love
Posts tagged love
Coldplay - The Scientist
(original, via franflow)
In real life, however, to best love anyone you truly care about, offer love only to the limit your love is accepted. (If you do not know that limit, or do not honour it, the love may be fictional after all.)
"In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age old pain,
Its ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played alongside millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.
Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all mans days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -
And the songs of every poet past and forever.” ~Rabindranath Tagore
Because Of, Leonard Cohen
all or nothing
As part of LOVE BYTES, our love monologue competition, check out Camilla Turnbull’s VELCRO.
A lover is not a Muslim or a Christian,
or part of any faith.
The love religion has no doctrine
to be faithful or unfaithful to.
“I think I love him,” she says to her roommate, who she loves.
“Who? Your long-distance boyfriend?”
“No,” I say. “_____,”
The roommate squints. “Really? Why?”
Begin with interesting action, action that will draw the reader in, make them want to keep reading.
He put me on all fours. Took me from behind. “I think he’s rearranging my insides,” I would tell my roommate, the next morning. And, uncharacteristically, I didn’t mean that metaphorically.
“You know you have the perfect body, right?” he’d say, after. He took a magic marker and drew all over my skin. Across my ass: “_____’s Property.”
Places he fingered me: in the freshman dorm hallway, while talking to a group of friends. On the greyhound bus, beside lonely people. At a white kid baseball cap concert.
What he asked me to do, and I did: wear clothes that hid my body—“that’s for me to see.” Drink vodka straight. Not tell his girlfriend. Not tell my boyfriend. Not admit to his parents that I wasn’t Catholic. Meet him by the clock tower and tell no one.
What he asked me to do that I would not do: Stop talking to my ex, and childhood best friend—“you’re mine.” Stop saying “I love you” to my family and girlfriends—“that’s our saying.” Stop holding hands with male dancers while bowing in a line after a performance. Break the skin on my neck, and bleed.
What I did instead: Tried not to partner in dances with men. Let him bite my lips until they bled. Let him bite my neck until I had to wear turtlenecks for weeks.
Worse things that could have happened: He could have hurt me. He could have hurt himself. I could still be with him.”
the alpha and omegle
"I have always loved fashion films. But I was incredibly surprised by the tone of this one. Actual beautiful words to accompany beautiful shots." ~wiccaprincess
From that moment on there is no getting around it; the one who wants an ending will see plenty of reasons to separate—or will make reasons, no matter if a reason is valid or fictional.
The best the other can do is ”To give space when what one most yearns for is closeness, that is both the great test and great tragedy of love"
J. Krishnamurti, First and Last Freedom
A good reminder from the KFA today, about love, about relationship, and about the fact that yes, K was a deeply religious man (i.e., concerned with “communion with the highest”).