Oh for a book and a shady nook...

Book: The Storyteller's tale

 

Yeh dil kab ishq ke kabil raha hai

Kahaan isko dimaagh-o-dil raha hai?

 

When has this heart been capable of loving?

When has it had the intelligence (to play the game) of love, this heart of mine…" 

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"Isn't that the brutal truth of love, that you can never choose the ache it leaves you with, that it doesn't matter if you offer to take the pain on your unprotected breast, it will still stab you in the back? She had no defences left anymore, and began to weep gently."

 

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After the leave taking (the story teller said) there is the leaving. And once you have left, you discover the  ten thousand things that you still carry - memories of touch, scent and sight.

 

"It is only after leaving that you discover the city within you has changed, and its roads wind now to different destinations. After the end of love there is the unloving, when you can engage in the ceaseless hunt for all those things to be taken out, and somehow discarded; when you can fight against the new roads and try futilely, to return to what you were before.

 

There is, though, another choice. Half the story of love is the discovery of it as you put it behind you. And with that discovery comes the knowledge that your own journey is still incomplete. The maps have changed, the continents have shifted, and the horizons are not the ones you remember. However, the road is still open  and there is much to see, but only if you have the courage to see that the first step is always a departure."

 

Book: A million little pieces 

Author: James Frey

 

"The one word love means too little for what it is. It means everything and that is still not enough. It does not communicate even a fraction of the feelings involved. Love. The word is not enough for what it is. "

Book: Godan

 

(Malti to Mehta) "If love is a lion, I better not come near it. I thought love was soft and sweet, like a cow.  I think true love is always above suspicion - for suspicion leads to violence. Love demands complete surrender. In the temple of love, rewards go to the devotee, not the critic. "

 

Book: The Zahir

Book: By the river Piedra I sat down and wept

 

But love is always new. Regardless of whether we love once, twice or a dozen times in our life, we always face a brand new situation. Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. We simply have to accept it because it is what nourishes our existence. If we reject it, we die of hunger, because we lack the courage to stretch out a hand and pluck the fruit from the branches of the tree of life. We have to take love where we find it; even if it means hours, days, weeks of disappointed and sadness.

 

The moment we begin to seek love, love begins to seek us. And to save us."