Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
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.
Louis De Bernieres
Monday, February 6, 2012
“…We see a haystack by Monet, an iris by Van Gogh, or an asparagus spear by Manet and marvel at their presence and spirit and think that these works were about haystacks, irises, and asparagus. Not at all! Monet, Van Gogh, Manet employed haystacks, irises, asparagus to speak of the symphonies of light, the glory of God’s creations, the life force residing in all forms. We care about those paintings more than we care about stacks of hay, flowers, and vegetables because we care more about light, God and life than we do about any of their particular manifestations. Meaning, not beauty, is what we are after. Big, deep, wide meaning.”
Peter London, from the book No More Secondhand Art