But how awful would that be? How terrible to live surrounded by the stark, sharp, hollowness of things that simply were enough?
Patrick RothfussRead
I can't give you the moon,” the tinker said. “She doesn't belong to me. She belongs only to herself.
Interpretation
This quote emphasizes the idea of independence and self-ownership in relationships.
In this quote, the tinker expresses a profound truth about love and personal autonomy. It highlights the importance of recognizing that each individual is their own person, with their own rights and desires. The message suggests that true love does not seek to possess or control another but respects their individuality and freedom.
In practice
In a romantic relationship discussion, you can express the importance of allowing your partner to maintain their individuality.
But how awful would that be? How terrible to live surrounded by the stark, sharp, hollowness of things that simply were enough?
I wanted to tell her that she was the first beautiful thing I had seen in three years. That the sight of her yawning to the back of her hand was enough to drive the breath from me. How I sometimes lost the sense of her words in the sweet fluting of her voice. I wanted to say that if she were with me then somehow nothing could ever be wrong for me again.
Using words to talk of words is like using a pencil to draw a picture of itself, on itself. Impossible. Confusing. Frustrating ... but there are other ways to understanding.
Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts. There are seven words that will make a person love you. There are ten words that will break a strong man's will. But a word is nothing but a painting of a fire. A name is the fire itself.
How odd to watch a mortal kindle / Then to dwindle day by day / Knowing their bright souls are tinder / And the wind will have its way
All the truth in the world is held in stories.
Earth, my dearest, oh believe me, you no longer need your springtimes to win me over...Unspeakably, I have belonged to you, from the flush.
Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence, or learning.
Cooking is an act of love, a gift, a way of sharing with others the little secrets -- 'piccoli segreti' -- that are simmering on the burners.
If I had time in a bottle, if words could make wishes come true, I'd save everyday for eternity passes. And then I would spend them with you.
Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.
There are still a few men who love desperately.
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