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Kuruvilla Pandikattu

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Love is the source of our hope/ Love is the basis of our vision/ Love is the goal of our progress/ Love is our world.
--
Life: Relish It! p.141

 
Kuruvilla Pandikattu

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Love's arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope,
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In that close kiss and drank her whisper'd tales.
They said that Love would die when Hope was gone.
And Love mourn'd long, and sorrow'd after Hope;
At last she sought out Memory, and they trod
The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope,
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Oh, love, love, love —
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Son, you're probably too young to look for wisdom in anyone's words but your own, but I'll tell you this: love is the enemy... Yes. The poets continually and sometimes willfully mistake love. Love is the old slaughterer. Love is not blind. Love is a cannibal with extremely acute vision. Love is insectile; it is always hungry.
When asked what love eats:
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