Perhaps we were each allotted only a certain amount of love - enough for only an initial meeting - a serendipitous clumsiness. When it leaves to find others, the difficulty begins because we are faced with our humanness, our past, our very being.
If love were endless, if it were on tap, it wouldn't hit us the way it does. And we certainly wouldn't write about it.
Does my behavior in respect of love affect nothing? That is because there is not enough love in me.
Vexation of spirit is a waste of time Negative thinking, don't you waste your thoughts Verbal conflict is a waste of word Physical conflict is a waste of flesh People will always be who they want And that's what really makes the world go round Unconditional love is scarce.
Why should it be essential to love rarely in order to love much?
The belief that love is a finite essence that will eventually run out holds a certain logic for me even now, even if I am supposed to know better.
Our hearts connect with lots of folks in a lifetime but most of us will go to our graves with no experience of true love.
