The only true language in the world is a kiss.
Interpretation
A kiss is a universal expression of love and connection that transcends words.
Alfred De Musset's quote highlights the profound and universal nature of a kiss as a form of communication. While words can often fail to convey emotions and intentions, a kiss expresses deep affection and intimacy, bypassing language barriers entirely. It suggests that genuine emotions can be understood through physical gestures, emphasizing the significance of non-verbal communication in human relationships.
In practice
Using this quote during a wedding ceremony to emphasize the importance of love.
Alas, everything that men say to one another is alike; the ideas they exchange are almost always the same, in their conversation. But inside all those isolated machines, what hidden recesses, what secret compartments! It is an entire world that each one carries within him, an unknown world that is born and dies in silence! What solitudes all these human bodies are!
You’re like a lighthouse shining beside the sea of humanity, motionless: all you can see is your own reflection in the water. You’re alone, so you think it’s a vast, magnificent panorama. You haven’t sounded the depths. You simply believe in the beauty of God’s creation. But I have spent all this time in the water, diving deep into the howling ocean of life, deeper than anyone. While you were admiring the surface, I saw the shipwrecks, the drowned bodies, the monsters of the deep
What I need is a woman who is something, anything: either very beautiful or very kind or in the last resort very wicked; very witty or very stupid, but something.
The blood of my motherland waters a magic plant that cures all ills. That plant is art, and sometimes art needs corruption as a kind of fertilizer
life is a deep sleep of which love is the dream
A happy memory is perhaps on this earth truer than happiness itself.
You know what love is? _x000D_ It is all kindness, generosity.
Being in love doesn't mean loving.
People talk about love as if it were something you could give, like an armful of flowers.
The tears that kept Buttercup company the remainder of the day were not at all like those that had blinded her into the tree trunk. Those were noisy and hot; they pulsed. These were silent and steady and all they did was remind her that she wasn’t good enough. She was seventeen, and every male she’d ever known had crumbled at her feet and it meant nothing. The one time it really mattered, she wasn’t good enough.
Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
It is easier to love humanity as a whole than to love one's neighbor.
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