Among the more curious questions that can be asked about love is this:when羅永浩 one feels romantic love ,does he feel it in breaks .with interruputions or clanges,or does he feel it continuously without interruption or change.
Poetry and song. seciuce one into thinking love continues without interruption. "Love is notlove which alters when its alterations finds,"wrote Shakespeare in one of his famous sonnets .Love is "an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken," he continued .And Elizabeth ROBERT Browning wrote of her constancy to her husband Robert in such lines as this：“what I do and what I dream include thee."Some of the greatest operas also praise the ever-lasting love by some heroes and heroines dying for it.
In reality,love probably goes on with breaks and interruptions .First ,it's difficult to suppose that one can experience anything continuously.Sleep interrupts wakefulness ,and sleep itself is interrupted by dreams and nightmares.The feeling one has for his lover during wakefulness may be blotted out or intensified by sleep.In either case ,the feeling changes.
When one is awake,he cannot fix his eyes for his attention constantly on a single object.He must blink,if nothing else .More likely he will look to something else for variety or from necessity.His mind may turn to the stock market or he may become fascinated by the operation of a pile driver on his way to work.His focus for such of his day is on work.As he closes the door to his office,his thoughts may turn to his love ,but sitting at his desk,his eyed fix on the print and figures there.
Love makes the world go around.
Love to us human is what water to fish. Love shines the most beautiful light of humanity, we born in it, we live by it. Too often we take it as granted, but we should know love is a priceless gift we should cherish. But how to cherish the love? I have heard a saying: the quickest way to receive love is to give it; the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly; the best way to keep love is to give it wings.
Wh雞毛飛上天電視連續劇en you are young, you may want several love experiences. But as time goes on, you will realize that if you really love someone, the whole life will not be enough. You need time to know, to forgive and to love. All this needs a very big mind.
It is important for us to learn to love as the first class in our life. Only when you know how to love than you will be a real man in this world. Love brings us warmth in the fearful coldness, love brings us bright when life gets hard and dark. Love brings us confidence toward life when we are tired out and want to give up.
Love deserves all the admiring words, and love is even beyond the life and death. That is what love is all about in my eyes.
The Best Kind of Love
I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl.
“I’m young again!” she sho致我們終將逝去uts exuberantly.
As my friend raves on about her new love, I’ve taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.
When my friend asked me “What will make this love last?” I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical at我的微信連三界traction, communication. Yet there’s more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Sco亞洲圖片歐美圖色tt flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.
And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a “pot of gold” (my cooking kettle) and the “treasure” of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.
There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and even him - to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.
There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I’d read it.
There is forgiveness. When I’m embarrasssingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, “It’s okay. It’s only money.”
There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it’s been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year-old woman who’d had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman’s husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I s新烏龍院之笑鬧江湖hed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.
There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer’s disease on her father-in-law’s personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, this is too much heartache for one week. Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor’s house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.
Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he’ll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I’ll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.
I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not坦克世界 bluer: it’s just a familiar hue. We don’t feel particularly young: we’ve experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.
I hope we’ve got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott’s wedding band engraved with Robert Browning’s line “Grow old along with me!” We’re following those instructions.
“If anything is real, the heart will make it plain.”