:DAwAn lNg maaRaMiD pOsT Ak mAn>>>
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an
earthquake and then subsides. And when it
subsides you have to make a decision. You have
to work out whether your roots have become so
entwined together that it is inconceivable that you
should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love
is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not
the promulgation of promises of eternal passion.
That is just being "in love" which any of us can
convince ourselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love
has burned away, and this is both an art and a
fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we
had roots that grew towards each other
underground, and when all the pretty blossom had
fallen from our branches we found that we were
one tree and not two
:smitten:
