The deep joy we take in the company of people with whom we have just recently fallen in love is undisguisable.
Interpretation
The joy of being with someone you love newly is transparent and genuine.
This quote expresses the profound happiness that comes from being with a romantic partner whom you have just started to love. It highlights the intensity and purity of emotions during the early stages of love, where the excitement and joy are apparent and unfiltered.
In practice
In a wedding speech, one might reference this quote to highlight the beautiful beginnings of a couple's love story.
For me a page of good prose is where one hears the rain. A page of good prose is when one hears the noise of battle.... A page of good prose seems to me the most serious dialogue that well-informed and intelligent men and women carry on today in their endeavor to make sure that the fires of this planet burn peaceably.
For me, a page of good prose is where one hears the rain and the noise of battle. It has the power to give grief or universality that lends it a youthful beauty.
The world that was not mine yesterday now lies spread out at my feet, a splendor. I seem, in the middle of the night, to have returned to the world of apples, the orchards of Heaven. Perhaps I should take my problems to a shrink, or perhaps I should enjoy the apples that I have, streaked with color like the evening sky.
What I am going to write is the last of what I have to say. I will say that literature is the only consciousness we possess and that its role as consciousness must inform us of our ability to comprehend the hideous danger of nuclear power.
Art is the triumph over chaos.
The short story is the literature of the nomad.
I loved her for so long. Our past trails behind us like a comet's tail, the future stretched out before us like the universe. Things happen. People get lost and love breaks.
Absence, like death, sets a seal on the image of those we love: we cannot realize the intervening changes which time may have effected.
She let him finish, scratching his head with the tips of her fingers, and without his having revealed that he was weeping from love, she recognized immediately the oldest sobs in the history of man.
Emerson said, Do you love me? means Do you see the same truth?-Or at least, "Do you care about the same truth?
It was you I thought of all the time, I gave to them the love you did not need: lavished on them a love that was not theirs.
For was that all, she thought bleakly, that love ever was? Something that saved one from loneliness? A sort of insurance policy against not counting?
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