We are slow to believe that which if believed would hurt our feelings.
OvidRead
Ah me! Love can not be cured by herbs.
Interpretation
Love is an emotion that cannot be healed or fixed with physical remedies.
In this quote, Ovid expresses the idea that love is a profound and sometimes painful experience that cannot be alleviated by mere physical means such as herbs or medicine. It reflects the notion that emotional afflictions, particularly those related to love, require deeper understanding and healing than what can be provided by external substances.
In practice
This quote could be used in a Valentine's Day speech to highlight the depth of love's intensity.
We are slow to believe that which if believed would hurt our feelings.
All things human hang by a slender thread; and that which seemed to stand strong suddenly falls and sinks in ruins.
A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man's brow.
Fas est ab hoste doceri._x000D_ One should learn even from one's enemies.
Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.
The end doesn't justify the means.
He says, he loves my daughter;_x000D_ _x000D_ I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon_x000D_ _x000D_ Upon the water, as he'll stand and read,_x000D_ _x000D_ As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,_x000D_ _x000D_ I think, there is not half a kiss to choose,_x000D_ _x000D_ Who loves another best.
Young poets bewail the passing of love; old poets, the passing of time. There is surprisingly little difference.
May love fill your heart, compassion guide your mind, faith rule your soul.
If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
It may sound funny, but I love the South. I don't choose to live anywhere else. There's land here, where a man can raise cattle, and I'm going to do it some day.
She took kisses like so many coats of paint [β¦] how long and how vainly I searched for excuses which might make her amorality if not palatable at lest understandable. I realize now the time I wasted in this way; instead of enjoying her and turning aside from these preoccupations with the thought, βShe is untrustworthy as she is beautiful. She takes love as plants do water, lightly, thoughtlessly.
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