That is the mystery about writing: it comes out of afflictions, out of the gouged times, when the heart is cut open.
Edna O'BrienRead
Love . . . is like nature, but in reverse; first it fruits, then it flowers, then it seems to wither, then it goes deep, deep down into its burrow, where no one sees it, where it is lost from sight, and ultimately people die with that secret buried inside their souls.
Interpretation
What this quote means
Love evolves and transforms over time, often becoming hidden or unexpressed as it matures.
In this quote, Edna O'Brien compares love to the cycles of nature, suggesting that love initially blossoms and bears fruit before it begins to fade and retreat into the depths of our being. This metaphor illustrates how love can change from a visible, vibrant emotion into something more private and often concealed within us, leading to a sense of loss as individuals carry unexpressed feelings deep within their souls.
Themes
LoveNatureEmotionTransformationHidden Feelings
In practice
Example use cases
In a wedding speech to reflect on how love evolves over time.
More from Edna O'Brien
All quotes →Cities, in many ways, are the best repositories for a love affair. You are in a forest or a cornfield, you are walking by the seashore, footprint after footprint of trodden sand, and somehow the kiss or the spoken covenant gets lost in the vastness and indifference of nature. In a city there are places to remind us of what has been.
Edna O'BrienRead
Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment.
Edna O'BrienRead
Oh, love, what an unreasoning creature it grew to be.
Edna O'BrienRead
Recollection is not something that I can summon up, it simply comes and I am the servant of it.
Edna O'BrienRead
It was the first time that I came face to face with madness and feared it and was fascinated by it.
Edna O'BrienRead
Similar quotes
Gather therefore the Rose, whilst yet is prime, For soon comes age, that will her pride deflower: Gather the Rose of love, whilst yet is time.
Edmund SpenserRead
Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!_x000D_ What a task_x000D_ to ask_x000D_ of anything, or anyone,_x000D_ yet it is ours,_x000D_ and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.
Mary OliverRead
Only God knows how much I love you.
Gabriel Garcia MarquezRead
As fits the holy Christmas birth, Be this, good friends, our carol still Be peace on earth, be peace on earth, To men of gentle will.
William Makepeace ThackerayRead
Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because—like all real love stories—it will die with us, as it should. I'd hoped that he'd be eulogizing me.
John GreenRead
She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.
Terry PratchettRead