A lot of good arguments are spoiled by some fool who knows what he is talking about.
Miguel De UnamunoRead
There is no true love save in suffering, and in this world we have to choose either love, which is suffering, or happiness. Man is the more man - that is, the more divine - the greater his capacity for suffering, or rather, for anguish.
Interpretation
True love involves suffering, and we must choose between love and happiness.
Miguel De Unamuno suggests that genuine love is inherently tied to suffering. He argues that the depth of a person's capacity for love is linked to their ability to endure pain and anguish. In a world of choices, one has to reconcile the joy of love with the inevitable suffering it brings, highlighting the complexity of human emotions and relationships.
In practice
In a speech about the complexities of love during a wedding ceremony.
A lot of good arguments are spoiled by some fool who knows what he is talking about.
Suffering is the substance of life and the root of personality, for it is only suffering that makes us persons.
Only he who attempts the absurd is capable of achieving the impossible.
Only in solitude do we find ourselves; and in finding ourselves, we find in ourselves all our brothers in solitude.
If it is nothingness that awaits us, let us make an injustice of it, let us fight against destiny, even without hope of victory.
Spiritual Love is born of sorrow. . . . For men love one another with spiritual love only when they have suffered the same sorrow together, when through long days they have ploughed the stony ground buried beneath the common yoke of a common grief. It is then that they know one another and feel one another and feel with one another in their common anguish, and so they pity one another and love one another.
The happiness which God designs for His higher creatures is the happiness of being freely, voluntarily united to Him and to each other in an ecstasy of love and delight compared with which the most rapturous love between a man and a woman on this earth is mere milk and water. And for that they must be free.
I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.
I am running through a snowfall which is her thighs, he dramatized in purple. Her thighs are filling up the street. Wide as a snowfall, heavy as huge falling Zeppelins, her damp thighs are settling on the sharp roofs and wooden balconies. Weather-vanes press the shape of roosters and sail-boats into the skin. The faces of famous statues are preserved like intaglios.
The worst prison would be a closed heart.
as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.
For a practitioner of love and compassion, an enemy is one of the most important teachers. Without an enemy you cannot practice tolerance, and without tolerance you cannot build a sound basis of compassion.
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