Love is not to be proven or measured...It exists, and that is enough.
Interpretation
Love cannot be quantified; its existence is validation enough.
This quote by Jorge Amado emphasizes that love is an intrinsic emotion that cannot be quantified or evaluated through metrics or proofs. Instead of needing validation or evidence, love simply exists as a powerful and sufficient experience, highlighting its profound nature in human life.
In practice
During a wedding ceremony to emphasize the depth of love shared between partners.
He owned a whole world full of memories, of lovely moments relived and happy recollections. I'm not saying he was happy or that he didn't suffer. He suffered very much, but he did not despair; he still drew nourishment from what he had been given. But the sadness never left him. Happiness needs more than memories of the past to feed on; it also needs dreams of the future.
That's the very reason why love is eternal, because it is forever renewed. Passions die, love remains.
Many things I might not write today because I no longer believe them, but I wouldn't change them, since I believed them at the time.
I believe that she has the kind of magic that causes revolutions and promotes great discoveries. Thereβs nothing I enjoy more than to observe Gabriela in the midst of a group of people. Do you know what she reminds me of? A fragrant rose in a bouquet of artificial flowers.
God's love is so great that He loves even the proud, the selfish, the arrogant, and the wicked.
Go on loving what is good, simple, and ordinary.
That idea is strange to me. People keep on loving? People keep on loving even if you are not there in their face everyday to remind them? People keep on loving even if they no longer see you at all? People keep on loving even if they are loving someone else? Impossible: to believe you can be loved in absence when you don't even know how it feels to be loved when you are there.
Come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.
I see love in black and white. Passion in shades of βgrisβ. But when it comes to you and I, color is all I see.
It was in the spring that Josephine and I had first loved each other, or, at least, had first come into the full knowledge that we loved. I think that we must have loved each other all our lives, and that each succeeding spring was a word in the revelation of that love, not to be understood until, in the fullness of time, the whole sentence was written out in that most beautiful of all beautiful springs.
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