To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home,_x000D_ _x000D_ To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee_x000D_ _x000D_ I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome.
Interpretation
This quote expresses a deep affection and gratitude towards the speaker's mother as the primary source of love and comfort in their life.
In this quote, Christina Rossetti celebrates the profound bond between a mother and child, highlighting how a mother's love serves as a sanctuary of peace and understanding. The phrase 'love-lore that is not troublesome' suggests that the lessons learned from a mother about love are pure and joyful, contrasting with the complexities and challenges often associated with adult relationships.
In practice
In a Mother’s Day speech to honor maternal figures, this quote beautifully encapsulates the love shared between a mother and child.
When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply I may forget.
We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death; Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low, As long ago, my love, how long ago
Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake.
I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?
When I am dead, my dearest,_x000D_ _x000D_ Sing no sad songs for me
If one loves, one need not have an ideology of love.
I looked at this tiny, perfect creature and it was as though a light switch had been turned on. A great rush of love flooded out of me.
The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay, I heard the laughter of her heart in every street café.
A lover cannot be chosen a la smorgasbord. A lover has to be chosen from soul-craving. To choose just because something mouthwatering stands before ou will never satisfy the hunger of the soul-self. And that is what the intuition is for; it is the direct messenger of the soul.
There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.
Ah... romance to me is spontaneity. It's not diamond earrings; it's a bunch of daffodils that's freshly picked from the field.
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