Like the collector, the photographer is animated by a passion that, even when it appears to be for the present, is linked to a sense of the past.
Susan SontagRead
It hurts to love. It's like giving yourself to be flayed and knowing that at any moment the other person may just walk off with your skin.
Interpretation
Loving someone can be painful and vulnerable, as it involves a deep emotional risk.
This quote by Susan Sontag expresses the pain and vulnerability that comes with love. It likens love to a self-sacrificial act where one gives their whole self to another, aware that the other person might not reciprocate that commitment, which could lead to emotional hurt and heartache.
In practice
This quote can be used in discussions about the risks involved in intimate relationships.
Like the collector, the photographer is animated by a passion that, even when it appears to be for the present, is linked to a sense of the past.
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Gide and I have attained such perfect intellectual communion that I experience the appropriate labor pains for every thought he gives birth to!
Volume depends precisely on the writer's having been able to sit in a room every day, year after year, alone.
In NY sensuality completely turns into sexuality - no objects for the senses to respond to, no beautiful river, houses, people. Awful smells of the street, and dirt... Nothing except eating, if that, and the frenzy of the bed.
Conventions vs. spontaneity. This is a dialectical choice, it depends on the assessment you make of your own times. If you judge that your own time is ridden with empty insincere formalities, you plump for spontaneity, for indecorous behavior even...Much of morality is the task of compensating for one's age. One assumes unfashionable virtues, in an indecorous time. In a time hollowed out by decorum, one must school oneself in spontaneity.
I will never hurt you. I will always help you. If you are hungry Ill give you my food. If you are frightened I am your friend. I love you now. And love does not end.
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.
It doesn't matter how old you are, there is a little child within who needs love and acceptance.
My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
Love is the world's infinite mutability; lies, hatred, murder even, are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose smelling faintly of blood.
God dislikes evil, and no happiness can be built on hate. Love one another as brothers.
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