Zülal
@somekindofzulal
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.
Öğrenci
Üniversite
147 okur puanı
Ocak 2018 tarihinde katıldı
Okuma Hedefleri
“Life has to end”, she said. “Love doesn't.”
Love, like rain can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes, under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots, keeping itself alive.
People say they "find" love, as if it were an object hidden by a rock. But love takes many forms, and it is never the same for any man and woman. What people find then is a certain love. And Eddie found a certain love with Marguerite, a grateful love, a deep but quiet love, one that he knew, above all else, was irreplaceable. Once she'd gone, he'd let the days go stale. He put his heart to sleep.
Okur Takip Önerileri
Which was worse when left unexplained: a life, or a death?
Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them—a mother's approval, a father's nod—are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.
All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.
Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.
Strangers," the Blue Man said, "are just family you have yet to come to know.
That there are no random acts. That we are all connected. That you can no more separate one life from another than you can separate a breeze from the wind.
That's the thing. Sometimes when you sacrifice something precious, you're not really losing it. You're just passing it on to someone else.
That's what heaven is. You get to make sense of your yesterdays.
Gönlünün vazosuna bir gül gibi bırakıyorum yüreğimi.
Rengim solup boynumu bükmeye başladığımda ister ayaklarının altına alıp çiğnersin, istersen
yapraklarımı gönül defterinin sayfalarına paylaştırabilirsin.
Ama lütfen senden de bir hatıra kalsın.
Belki bir yerde buluşamayız, belki de buluşur denize birlikte akarız. Ayrı da olsak, bir yerde de buluşsak yine aynı denize karışacağız.
Senin gözlerin bende, benimki sende kalsa belki hayatımızın akışı değişecek. Yokuşa doğru birbirimize akmaya çalışacağız.