Where did love begin? What human being looked at another and saw in their face the forests and the sea? Was there a day, exhausted and weary, dragging home food, arms cut and scarred, that you saw yellow flowers and, not knowing what you did, picked them because I love you?
Jeanette Winterson
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I guess this is the first time in a video that I ever showed my arms since my arms have been scarred, 'cause my arms are-are pretty badly scarred. I guess people are always wondering so I might as well say that, um, that the way that my arms got the way that they look, um, is was from abcesses, which came from shooting huge amounts of drugs. The results could have been a lot worse, so I'm happy to have the scars from a period of my life where I was living destructively, just as a... as a sign of what I've been through. And, uh, these days, I-I'm, you know, being healthy and taking care of my body is so important to me. But looking at it here, is seems like my arms have gotten better since then, so... That's nice to see.
John Frusciante
Not by way of reason, but only by way of love and suffering, do we come to the living God, the human God. Reason rather separates us from Him. We cannot first know Him in order that afterward we may love Him; we must begin by loving Him, longing for Him, hungering after Him, before knowing Him. The knowledge of God proceeds from the love of God, and this love has little or nothing of the rational in it. For God is indefinable. To seek to define Him is to seek to confine Him within the limits of our mind — that is to say, to kill Him. In so far as we attempt to define Him, there rises up before us — Nothingness.
Miguel de Unamuno
Love of my home, my wife and my children./ Love for the earth that helps me live./ Love for education and of work./ Love of others who work for the common good./ Love of justice as the instrument that provides equilibrium for human dignity./ Love of peace in order to enjoy one's life./ Love of freedom, but not the freedom acquired at the expense of others’ freedom, but rather the freedom of all./ Love of freedom to live and exist, for the existence of my children, in my home, in my town, my city, among neighbouring people./ Love for freedom in the environment in which we are required to forge our destiny./ Love of freedom without yokes: nor ours nor foreign.
Victor Jara
He had a battered face that looked as if it had been hit by everything but the bucket of a dragline. It was scarred, flattened, thickened, checkered, and welted. It was a face that had nothing to fear. Everything had been done to it that anybody could think of.
Raymond Chandler
To write a good love letter, you ought to begin without knowing what you mean to say, and to finish without knowing what you have written.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Winterson, Jeanette
Winthrop, John
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