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
They loved each other, not driven by necessity, by the "blaze of passion" often falsely ascribed to love. They loved each other because everything around them willed it, the trees and the clouds and the sky over their heads and the earth under their feet.
Interpretation
True love is not just driven by passion, but by a deep connection with the world around us.
In this quote by Boris Pasternak, love is portrayed as a natural alignment with the universe rather than a mere romantic impulse. The idea suggests that when two individuals are in love, their connection is not only between themselves but is also enriched and supported by their environment, highlighting a profound bond with nature and existence itself.
In practice
This quote can be used in a wedding speech to emphasize the deep connection between partners.
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!
Life with you was lovely—and when I say lovely, I mean doves and lilies, and velvet, and that soft pink ‘v’ in the middle and the way your tongue curved up to the long, lingering ‘l.’ Our life together was alliterative, and when I think of all the little things which will die, now that we cannot share them, I feel as if we were dead too.
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
My mother is not a model. She is not perfect. That awareness is part of learning to love someone. Predicting the actions of someone is an act of love. We persist, even when we get it wrong. That's the beauty of love.
We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.
He would not let her go. Even though, staring into her open eyes in the swirling salt-filled water, with sun flashing though each wave, he thought he would like this moment to be forever: the dark-haired woman on shore calling for their safety, the girl who had once jumped rope like a queen, now holding him with a fierceness that matched the power of the ocean—oh, insane, ludicrous, unknowable world! Look how she wanted to live, look how she wanted to hold on.
I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful
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