For every individual, it is something different, something unique in his world.
The unknown power, which is sensed by the man, judged by heart, which however
belongs to the realm where the mind interprets it, is the strongest one!
Does it belong to Psyche?
Its lovers interpret it as a kind of brain insufficiency, but it is hard for them
to classify it because the ill brain is not able to judge itself.
Has anybody heard at any time a madman say consciously about his brain's chemical disbalance?
I sometimes think that love is a delusion of the square imagination, which means it's a fake
based on the erotic desire that leans on hope.
In their delirious imagination, the romantics shall sigh that two immortal souls must meet
again so that love can come into being.
And their oponents, who treat love with tongue in cheek and platonically, will stick to
their guns that one soul plus the beautiful mind are completely enough to bring forth love.
I don't know.
Interpreted and classified by the mankind in the funny way, after their fashion, love
becomes a defensive shield and a refuge from everything!
And it, like everything that is alive, expects only one thing - love.
Happy is the one who has understood
what love is because he experienced it.
He could manage it only as he
betrayed it and suffered from it.
The popularity of using the platitude of 'love' leads the love's self to a stalemate situation.
Who wants the stalemate situations?
In this motley of so many human figments one word cannot manage.
My face gets twisted as I think about the human interpretation of love.
I beg you to reserve this word only for what it belongs to.
Deadlockness and motely lead incorrectly to the slow loss of the most loyal and
most perfect of the human virtues, which is called identity.
Identity is the queen of being oneself!
Being yourself you don't have to care, fight or long for love.
It is always in you.
Don't you have strength to become yourself?
Can't you nail yourself to the cross?!
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