Don't we forgive everything of a lover? We forgive selfishness, desire, guile. As long as we are the motive for it...There are some European words you can never translate properly into another language.
Michael OndaatjeRead
Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again
Interpretation
The quote reflects the emotional resilience of love and the capacity to heal even after heartbreak.
Michael Ondaatje's quote illustrates the cyclical nature of love and emotional pain. Despite the heart-wrenching experiences that occur each night, the heart's ability to replenish itself by morning denotes that love, even when deeply wounded, possesses an intrinsic power to rejuvenate and overcome sorrow, suggesting a profound connection to hope and endurance in human emotions.
In practice
In a speech about resilience in relationships, one could say, 'As Michael Ondaatje noted, every night I cut out my heart, but it reminds us that healing is possible by morning.'
Don't we forgive everything of a lover? We forgive selfishness, desire, guile. As long as we are the motive for it...There are some European words you can never translate properly into another language.
When we are young we do not look into mirrors. It is when we are old, concerned with our name, our legend, what our lives will mean to the future. We become vain with the names we own, our claims to have been the first eyes, the strongest army, the cleverest merchant. It is when he is old that Narcissus wants a graven image of himself.
Water is the exile, carried back in cans and flasks, the ghost between your hands and your mouth.
You must talk to me, Caravaggio. Or am I just a book? Something to be read, some creature to be tempted out of a loch and shot full of morphine, full of corridors, lies, loose vegetation, pockets of stones.
You don't want to write your own opinion, you don't want to just represent yourself, but represent yourself through someone else.
A man in a desert can hold absence in his cupped hands, knowing it is something that feeds him more than water.
For an hour, blended with all she could offer, something noble had been created which had nothing to do with the physical world. And from the turn of his throat, the warmth of his hair, the strong, slender sinews of his hands, something further; which had. Though she combed the earth and searched through the smoke of the galaxies there was no being she wanted but this, who was not and should not be for Philippa Somerville.
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
God proved His love on the Cross. When Christ hung, and bled, and died, it was God saying to the world, 'I love you.'
Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love." -
He thinks about her, at this moment, in her house, a few thin walls away, packing her life into boxes and bags and he wonders what memories she is rediscovering, what thoughts are catching in her mouth like the dust blown from unused textbooks. He wonders if she has buried any traces of herself under her floorboards. He wonders what those traces would be if she had. And he wonders again why he thinks about her so much when he knows so little to think about.
Therefore the best fortress is to be found in the love of the people, for although you may have fortresses they will not save you if you are hated by the people.
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