Married couples who quarrel bitterly every day may really need each other as deeply as those who appear to be desperately in love.
Edward AbbeyRead
Why must love always be accompanied--sooner or later--by sorrow and pain? Why not? Because pure bliss is for pure idiots.
Interpretation
Love often brings both joy and sorrow as part of its nature.
Edward Abbey's quote reflects on the duality of love, suggesting that while love can bring immense happiness, it also inevitably leads to sorrow and pain. This contrast highlights that experiencing love in its truest form requires acknowledging its complexities and the potential for heartache, emphasizing that an unexamined or overly simplistic view of love can be foolish.
In practice
This quote could be used in a discussion about the complexities of romantic relationships.
Married couples who quarrel bitterly every day may really need each other as deeply as those who appear to be desperately in love.
I love America because it is a confused, chaotic mess - and I hope we can keep it this way for at least another thousand years. The permissive society is the free society.
If it's knowledge and wisdom you want, then seek out the company of those who do real work for an honest purpose.
The earth is real. Only a fool, milking his cow, denies the cow's reality.
I believe in nothing that I cannot touch, kiss, embrace.... The rest is only hearsay.
Why can't we simply borrow what is useful to us from Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, especially Zen, as we borrow from Christianity, science, American Indian traditions and world literature in general, including philosophy, and let the rest go hang? Borrow what we need but rely principally upon our own senses, common sense and daily living experience.
Love is not a relationship, love is a state of being; it has nothing to do with anybody else. One is not "in love", one is love. And of course when one is love, one is in love β but that is an outcome, a by-product, that is not the source. The source is that one is love.
Of all the icy blasts that blow on love, a request for money is the most chilling.
Was she really beautiful? Was she at least what they call attractive? She was exasperation, she was torture.
Beloved, till life can charm no more; And mourned, till Pity's self be dead.
I want to love you wildly. I donβt want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.
God knows I didn't mean to fall in love with her
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