The function of a book or a poem or a story is to delight, to enchant, to beguile.
Philip PullmanRead
No,' he said, 'memory's a poor thing to have. It's your own real hair and mouth and arms and eyes and hands I want. I didn't know I could ever love anything so much.
Interpretation
True love values the essence of a person beyond mere memories.
This quote expresses a deep affection and appreciation for the tangible and physical presence of a loved one. It emphasizes that genuine love transcends memories and focuses on the love for the individual’s real features and essence, highlighting the speaker’s emotional depth and connection to their beloved.
In practice
This quote can be used in a wedding speech to celebrate the depth of love between partners.
The function of a book or a poem or a story is to delight, to enchant, to beguile.
Education and health were always matters of charity. You educated children and you helped the sick because they were good things to do, not because you were going to make money out of them. If you let the money-making principle, the profit-seeking motive, anywhere near education and health, things go bad.
To get the best out of life here ...Good grief. There's plenty of it about, so indulge. Give yourself some thing to remember. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Gamble. Get drunk. See how long you can stay awake. Go for long walks at night. Discover what you're afraid of doing, and then do it.
People should decide on the books' meanings for themselves. They'll find a story that attacks such things as cruelty, oppression, intolerance, unkindness, narrow-mindedness, and celebrates love, kindness, open-mindedness, tolerance, curiosity, human intelligence.
I told him I was going to betray you, and betray Lyra, and he believed me because I was corrupt and full of wickedness; he looked so deep I felt sure he'd see the truth. But I lied too well. I was lying with every nerve and fiber and everything I'd ever done...I wanted him to find no good in me, and he didn't. There is none.
Lyra learns to her great cost that fantasy isn’t enough. She has been lying all her life, telling stories to people, making up fantasies, and suddenly she comes to a point where that’s not enough. All she can do is tell the truth. She tells the truth about her childhood, about the experiences she had in Oxford, and that is what saves her. True experience, not fantasy - reality, not lies - is what saves us in the end.
Yes I have loved, as no one on earth ever loved, with an insensate and furious love, so violent that I wonder it did not break my heart
Love is - OK, it's 20 things, but it isn't 19. And I think that love reaches for something which is very, very deep in us and is very easily obscured, and is also very easily denied, which is the instinct towards the other person, other than toward the self.
Having achieved and accomplished love... man... has become himself, his tale is told.
Capacity for love in its higher forms seems to be peculiarly human although even in humans it is still peculiar.
I missed her then but it was an odd sort of missing because by then, I knew the meaning of forever.
A bruise, blue in the muscle, you impinge upon me. As bone hugs the ache home, so I'm vexed to love you, your body the shape of returns, your hair a torso of light, your heat I must have, your opening I'd eat, each moment of that soft-finned fruit, inverted fountain in which I don't see me.
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