Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.
– Zora Neale Hurston
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish it’s source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
– Anais Nin
The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved –
loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves. – Victor Hugo
Love is not blind – it sees more, not less. But because it sees more,
it is willing to see less. - Julins Gordon
Friday, January 11, 2008
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