A man that knows your worth doesn't need to be told how to treat you. That's a given! You won't have to question his feelings, his motives, nor his intentions. How will I know? You ask. See, he will freely show you how he feels and prove it consistently. If you're settling for anything less than what you deserve. Then, maybe you don't even know your worth.
There is some kiss we want with our whole lives, the touch of spirit on the body. Seawaterbegs the pearl to break its shell.and the lily, how passionatelyit needs some wild darling! Atnight, I open the window and askthe moon to come and press itsface against mine. Breathe intome. Close the language door andopen the lovers window. The moonwon’t use the door, only the window.
She felt a feathery touch on her back and turn to see the man of her pleasures standing with her in the shower. Lost in her own thoughts, he’d managed to sneak in unheard. She looked at him now. His naked body glistened as the water rolled down his broad chest, over the firm and delicious abs and on down to his…On my, what a big boy, she whispered as she reached for him.
That's when I finally got it. I finally understood. It wasn't the thought that counted. It was the actual execution that mattered, the showing up for somebody. The intent behind it wasn't enough. Not for me. Not anymore. It wasn't enough to know that deep down, he loved me. You had to actually say it to somebody, show them you cared. And he just didn't. Not enough.
He spent the next hours watching her sleep, taking in every detail of her face, of her body. The way the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows on her cheeks. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath. And when the first light of dawn finally showed through the gap in the curtains he quietly dressed and turned off the bedside lamp, and left the room, not daring to look back.
Ricorderò la tua piccola stanza, la sensazione di te, la luce nella finestra, i tuoi dischi, i tuoi libri, il nostro caffè al mattino, i nostri pomeriggi, le nostre notti, i nostri corpi attaccati, il piccolo flusso di energia, immediato e per sempre. Le tue gambe, le mie gambe, le tue braccia, le mie braccia, il tuo sorriso ed il tuo calore quando mi facevi ridere ancora.
writing is like being in love. You never get better at it or learn more about it. The day you think you do is the day you lose it. Robert Frost called his work a lover's quarrel with the world. It's ongoing. It has neither a beginning nor an end. You don't have to worry about learning things. The fire of one's art burns all the impurities from the vessel that contains it.
My face responds without authorization from my brain, so the resulting smile feels like the biggest, most unguarded, goofiest smile I’ve ever unleashed in my entire life. I didn’t even know my face could do this. It’s like there were hidden zippers in my cheeks. Jesus. This must be what feelings are. This is why people write poems! I get it now. I get it, and I want more.
Apakah cinta sejati itu? Maka jawabannya, dalam kasus kau ini, cinta sejati adalah melepaskan. Semakin sejati perasaan itu, maka semakin tulus kau melepaskannya...Aku tahu kau akan protes, bagaimana mungkin? Kita bilang cinta itu sejati, tapi kita justru melepaskannya? Tapi inilah rumus terbalik yang tidak pernah dipahami oleh pecinta. Mereka tidak pernah mau mencoba memahami penjelasannya.
What if love is this fun game that started from heaven with you and I, perfectly together. And then, at some point, we agreed to play a game, to be tossed into a world in which we would spend the rest of our lives trying to find each other.Wouldn't it be fun to know that no matter what, no matter when, no matter how, and no matter where, at some point I'd find you, and say ... "Hello.
he woman Caeiro fell in love with. I have no idea who she was, and I intend to never find out, not even out of curiosity. There are things of which the soul refuses to lose its ignorance.I’m perfectly aware no one’s obliged to reciprocate love, and great poets have nothing to do with being great lovers. But there’s a transcendent spite...Let her remain anonymous even to God!
أجمل شئ في الحياة وفاء مغلف بالشهوة أما ألأتعس فشهوة مكفنة بالوفاء
Let us be greedy together; let us hoard. Let us hit each other with birch branches and lock each other in dungeons; let us drink each other's blood in the night and betray each other in the sun. Let us lie and lust and take hundreds of lovers; let us dance until snow melts between us. Let us steal and eat until we grow fat and roll in the pleasures of life, clutching each other for purchase.
Sleep, my love," He whispered, smoothing her long hair, lifting the damp locks away from the back of her neck. "I'll be here to watch over you.""You sleep too," she said groggily, her hand creeping to the center of his chest."No." McKenna smiled and pressed a soft kiss against her temple. His voice was husky with wonder. "Not when staying awake is better than anything I could find in a dream.
Love is seeing someone for who they are, and for all the things that they don't know they can be. Sometimes it's neither seeing things as good or bad, but seeing them as aspects that create the being. If you cannot love someone for all of the things that create their personality, then you'll find it hard to love them at all. I can be everything or nothing, but I cannot love without you.
