Love is like a friendship caught on fire.
In the beginning a flame, very pretty,
Often hot and fierce,
But still only light and flickering.
As love grows older,
Our hearts mature
And our love becomes as coals,
Deep-burning and unquenchable.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers'' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers'' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet
"I could not, at any age, be content to take my place
by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived.
Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason,
turn his back on life."
-Eleanor Roosevelt (1884-1962)
