Everytime you grab at love you will lose a snowflake of your memory
Interpretation
Chasing love may lead to losing fragments of our memories.
This quote suggests that in the pursuit of love, individuals may become so consumed by their desires or attachments that they inadvertently forget or lose parts of themselves, symbolized by 'snowflakes of your memory'. It reflects the idea that love, while enriching, can also result in moments of vulnerability or loss as one becomes more invested emotionally.
In practice
During a heartfelt conversation about relationships, this quote can serve to illustrate the bittersweet nature of love.
What is most original in a man's nature is often that which is most desperate. Thus new systems are forced on the world by men who simply cannot bear the pain of living with what is. Creators care nothing for their systems except that they be unique. If Hitler had been born in Nazi Germany he wouldn't have been content to enjoy the atmosphere.
I always thought that poetry is the verdict that others give to a certain kind of writing. So to call yourself a poet is a kind of dangerous description. It's for others; it's for others to use.
Be With Me In The Phases Of My Work Because My Brain Feels Like It Has Been Whipped And I Yearn To Make A Small Perfect Thing Which Will Live In Your Morning Like Curious Static Through A President's Elegy Or A Nude Hunchback Acquiring A Tan On The Crowded Oily Beach.
I heard of a man who says words so beautifully that if he only speaks their name women give themselves to him. If I am dumb beside your body while silence blossoms like tumors on our lips it is because I hear a man climb stairs and clear his throat outside our door.
I think what we like about music - and what we like about art in general....is that enterprise that stops our minds from spinning. Because we're always all over the place. A good song, a good lyric is a movie: it will just focus and calm and confer significance on this completely bewildering reality that all of us live in.
Most of the time one is discouraged by the work, but now and again by some grace something stands out and invites you to work on it, to elaborate it or animate it in some way. It's a mysterious process.
It's the ones who resist that we most want to kiss, wouldn't you say?
But the act, called the sexual act, is not for the depositing of seed. It is for leaping off into the unknown, as from a cliff's edge, like Sappho into the sea.
Love! What is love? It's nothing. It's just a word. It doesn't exist. Only pleasure is important.
"Come at once," she had written to him. "Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once"
Whole prayer is nothing but love.
Now love's the only thing that's free /We must take it where it's found /Pretty soon it may be costly
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