A recluse without books and ink is already in life a dead man.
Alfred NobelRead
A heart can no more be forced to love than a stomach can be forced to digest food by persuasion.
Interpretation
Love cannot be compelled; it must come naturally and willingly.
This quote metaphorically compares the act of love to the process of digestion, suggesting that just as one cannot force the stomach to digest against its will, one cannot force the heart to love. It underscores the idea that love is a natural, intrinsic emotion that cannot be coerced or manipulated by external pressures or persuasion.
In practice
In a discussion about relationships, one could cite this quote to emphasize the importance of mutual feelings.
A recluse without books and ink is already in life a dead man.
Justice is to be found only in the imagination.
Second to agriculture, humbug is the biggest industry of our age.
The savants will write excellent volumes. There will be laureates. But wars will continue just the same until the forces of the circumstances render them impossible.
I regard large inherited wealth as a misfortune, which merely serves to dull men's faculties. A man who possesses great wealth should, therefore, allow only a small portion to descend to his relatives. Even if he has children, I consider it a mistake to hand over to them considerable sums of money beyond what is necessary for their education. To do so merely encourages laziness and impedes the healthy development of the individual's capacity to make an independent position for himself.
I intend to leave after my death a large fund for the promotion of the peace idea, but I am skeptical as to its results.
Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.
After a long day of trying, to make my songs pay, making love all day against the wall in the hallway.
They say love conquers all_x000D_ You can't start it like a car_x000D_ You can't stop it with a gun.
George had turned at the sound of her arrival. For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her. Before she could speak, almost before she could feel, a voice called 'Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!' The silence of life had been broken by Miss Bartlett, who stood brown against the view.
The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh.
What we need to do is understand that we have to love each other, that we have to see each other have worth and dignity and value.
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