They don't ask much of you. They only want you to hate the things you love and to love the things you despise.
Boris PasternakRead
Love is not weakness. It is strong. Only the sacrament of marriage can contain it.
Interpretation
Love is a powerful force, not a sign of weakness, and is best expressed within the commitment of marriage.
This quote by Boris Pasternak suggests that true love is a testament to strength rather than vulnerability. It emphasizes that love should not be seen as a soft or weak emotion but rather as a profound and resilient bond that can only be fully embraced within the sacred commitment of marriage, indicating that love thrives in fidelity and devotion.
In practice
In a wedding card to emphasize the strength of love in marriage.
They don't ask much of you. They only want you to hate the things you love and to love the things you despise.
Even so, one step from my grave, I believe that cruelty, spite, The powers of darkness will in time, Be crushed by the spirit of light.
He is her glory. Any woman could say it. For every one of them, God is in her child. Mothers of great men must have been familiar with this feeling, but then, all women are mothers of great men -- it isn't their fault if life disappoints them later.
Our evenings are farewells. Our parties are testaments. So that the secret stream of suffering. May warm the cold of life.
The most extraordinary discoveries are made when the artist is overwhelmed by what he has to say.
Oh, how one wishes sometimes to escape from the meaningless dullness of human eloquence, from all those sublime phrases, to take refuge in nature, apparently so inarticulate, or in the wordlessness of long, grinding labor, of sound sleep, of true music, or of a human understanding rendered speechless by emotion!
Love is the veil between lover and lover.
All work is empty save when there is love.
He'd half meant to speak but those eyes had altered the world forever in the space of a heartbeat.
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, Tomorrow I'll miss you.
Oh, Jacques, we're used to each other, we're a pair of captive hawks caught in the same cage, and so we've grown used to each other. That's what passes for love at this dim, shadowy end of the Camino Real.
A mother defends herself with a heart filled with love before doing so with words. I wonder whether there is any love for the church in the hearts of those who pay so much attention to the scandals.
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