Rings and other jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself.
Interpretation
True gifts come from the heart, not material possessions.
Ralph Waldo Emerson suggests that tangible gifts, such as jewelry, are often substitutes for genuine connection and emotional presence. The essence of a true gift lies in the selflessness of offering one's time, attention, and love to another person, rather than resorting to material items that fail to convey true affection.
In practice
During a wedding, to emphasize the importance of love over material gifts.
It is plain that there is no separate essence called courage, no cup or cell in the brain, no vessel in the heart containing drops or atoms that make or give this virtue; but it is the right or healthy state of every man, when he is free to do that which is constitutional to him to do.
Few people have any next, they live from hand to mouth without a plan, and are always at the end of their line.
Men cease to interest us when we find their limitations
Tis the good reader that makes the good book; a good head cannot read amiss: in every book he finds passages which seem confidences or asides hidden from all else and unmistakeably meant for his ear.
The world belongs to the energetic.
Hast thou named all the birds without a gun?
Love is an energy which exists of itself. It is its own value.
That's it really; it's all love, whichever way you look at it, it's all love. How much you can Get from each other and that's determined by how much you're Giving to each other... But it all starts Within our self and then it spreads to those around us, Good & Bad. But basically that's it, I think it's the Love that we can generate is = to the Love that we get back Amen
It is when we love the other, the enemy, that we obtain from God the key to an understanding of who He is, and who we are.
It seemed a marvel to her that any mortal should suffer for lack of love, and yet she had never known a mortal who didn't feel unloved. There was enough love just in this ugly hallway, she thought, that no one should ever feel the lack of it again. She peered at the parents, imagining their hearts like machines, manufacturing surfeit upon surfeit of love for their children, and then wondered how something could be so awesome and so utterly powerless.
Your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks. All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by that rush of water. And still the rain beats down on the surface of the river. Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: Thatβs it. Thatβs my heart.
I can admire the solemn and stately language of worship that recognizes the greatness of God, but it will not warm my heart or express my soul until it has also blended therewith the joyful nearness of that perfect love that casts out fear and ventures to speak with our Father in heaven as a child speaks with its father on earth. My brother, no veil remains.
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