True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations: it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart.
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
Sometimes we put walls around our heart....
Not just to be safe from getting hurt....
But to find out who cares enough to break the walls n get closer . . . <-:
"To be in love is merely to be In a state of perpetual anesthesia: To mistake an ordinary young man for a Greek god Or an ordinary young woman for a goddess."
Measured By Miles
You Are Far From Me,
Measured By Thoughts
You Are Closer To Me,
Measurd By Closd Eyes
You Are Wid Me,
&
Measurd By Heart
You Are In Me... <-:
