It bothered me that whatever was waiting wasn't waiting for me
Jean AnouilhRead
Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.
Interpretation
True love involves selflessness and the willingness to give oneself to another person.
This quote by Jean Anouilh emphasizes that the essence of love goes beyond mere affection or romantic gestures; it encapsulates the idea of selflessness. Love is presented as an act of giving oneself entirely to another, suggesting that the deepest expressions of love involve sacrificing one's own interests for the well-being and happiness of a loved one.
In practice
In a wedding speech, one might say, 'Love is, above all, the gift of oneself, and that's what makes our bond so special.'
It bothered me that whatever was waiting wasn't waiting for me
Life is very nice, but it lacks form. It's the aim of art to give it some.
Have you noticed that life, with murders and catastrophes and fabulous inheritances, happens almost exclusively in newspapers?
The object of art is to give life shape.
Tragedy is restful: and the reason is that hope, that foul, deceitful thing, has no part in it.
Propaganda is a soft weapon; hold it in your hands too long, and it will move about like a snake, and strike the other way.
My brother gave me some good advice. He said, "What do you want to do? Do that because there are no rules when it comes to love. There are absolutely no rules. Do what you want to do." I think that was the most liberating piece of advice, because love really is unpredictable. There's trap doors, all kinds of scary stuff, caves and bears... You never know what's going to happen so you just have to do what you feel is right in the end.
You are right,” he had said. “Love is not the word. No one can love his neighbor. Say, rather, ‘Know thy neighbor as thyself.” That is, comprehend his hardships and understand his position, deal with his faults as gently as with your own. Do not judge him where you do not judge yourself. Madame, this is the meaning of the word love.
Caresses, expressions of one sort or another, are necessary to the life of the affections as leaves are to the life of a tree. If they are wholly restrained, love will die at the roots.
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.
Because there is nothing here than invites us to cherish unhappy lovers. Nothing is more vain than to die for love. What we ought to do is live.
People don't love each other at our age, Marthe—they please each other, that's all. Later on, when you're old and impotent, you can love someone. At our age, you just think you do. That's all it is.
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