Where did love begin?What human being looked at another and saw in their face the forests and the sea? Was there a day, exhausted and weary,dragging home food, arms cut and scarred, that you saw yellow flowers and, not knowing what you did, picked them because I love you? In the fossil record of our existence, there is no trace of love. You cannot find it held in the earth's crust, waiting to be discovered. The long bones of our ancestors show nothing of their hearts.
Interpretation
The quote explores the mystery of love's origins and its intangible nature, suggesting that love cannot be physically traced or found like material objects.
Jeanette Winterson's quote delves into the profound and elusive nature of love, pondering how it began and how it manifests in human relationships. It emphasizes that despite love being a crucial part of human existence, there are no physical traces of it in history or biology; love is a deeply personal and emotional experience rather than a tangible entity. The imagery of hardships and the connection to nature illustrates how love transcends mere survival and becomes a vital part of our emotional landscape, yet remains difficult to define or locate in the annals of time.
In practice
During a heartfelt speech at a wedding, one might reference this quote to highlight the mysterious and beautiful nature of love.
What is remembered is not a deed in stone but a metaphor. Meta = above. Pheren = to carry. That which is carried above the literalness of life. A way of thinking that avoids the problems of gravity. The word won't let me down. The single word that can release me from all that unuttered weight.
Reading things that are relevant to the facts of your life is of limited value. The facts are, after all, only the facts, and the yearning passionate part of you will not be met there. That is why reading ourselves as a fiction as well as fact is so liberating. The wider we read the freer we become.
I have a list of titles that I leave at the [library] desk, because they are bound to be written some day, and it's best to be ahead of the queue.
Woolf wanted to say dangerous things in Orlando but she did not want to say them in the missionary position.
In that house, you will find my heart. You must break in, Henri, and get it back for me.' Was she mad? We had been talking figuratively. Her heart was in her body like mine. I tried to explain this to her, but she took my hand and put it against her chest. Feel for yourself.
History is a string full of knots, the best you can do is admire it, and maybe tie it up a bit more. History is a hammock for swinging and a game for playing.
If two people who love each other let a single instant wedge itself between them, it grows-it becomes a month, a year, a century; it becomes to late.
I am dying into your mystery, and dying, I am now no other than that mystery. I open to your majesty as an orchard welcomes rain, and twenty times that.
I did not just fall in love. I made a parachute jump.
A conditional love is nothing but an infatuation, sexuality. Unconditional is the only way love can be. Wherever a condition comes in, love disappears. It cannot live in bondage, and a condition gives it an imprisonment. Love can only live like the vast sky. Love knows no boundaries.
Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love. Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus
That is what fame is, isn't it? To get the world to fall in love with you.
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