A Quote by Sushmita Sen
Yes, it is possible to love more than once. Every time you give of yourself, the intensity grows.
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I am a pack of nerves while waiting for the moment, and this feeling grows and grows and grows and then it explodes, it is a physical joy, a dance, space and time united. Yes, yes, yes, yes!
Time exists so that you can experience these flavors as deeply as possible. On the path of devotion, if you can experience even a glimmer of love, its possible to experience a little more love. When you experience that a little more, then the next degree of intensity is possible. Thus, love engenders love until you reach the point of saturation, when you totally merge with the divine love. this is what the mystics mean when they say that they plunge into the ocean of love to drown themselves.
Every day my love for you grows higher, deeper, wider, stronger... It grows and grows until it touches the tip of where you are and comes back to me in the loving memory of you, and my heart melts with that love and grows even more.
The more love we give away, the more we have left. The laws of love differ from the laws of arithmetic. Love hoarded dwindles, but love given grows. If we give all our love, we will have more left than they who save some. Giving love, not receiving, is important; but when we give with no thought of receiving, we automatically, and inescapably receive abundantly. Heaven is a by-product of love. When we say, "I love you," we mean that "a little of God's love flows from me to you." Thereby, we do not have less, but more. For in flowing, the quantity is magnified.
The only antidote to materialism is giving, because materialism's all about getting. Every time I give, my heart grows bigger. Every time I give, I become more like Jesus.
All the time I think I can never love you more than I already do. And then you do something or say something, and I love you more than ever. Like just now. Like now. How is it possible? Can you love someone more and more and at the same time, all the time, love them as much as it's possible to love someone?
Really love him, I mean," Geilie persisted. "Not just to bed him; I know you want that, and he does too. They all do. But do you love him?" Did I love him? Beyond the urges of the flesh? The hole had the dark anonymity of the confessional, and a soul on the verge of death had no time for lies. "Yes," I said, and laid my head back on my knees. It was silent in the hole for some time, and I hovered once more on the verge of sleep, when I heard her speak once more, as though to herself. "So it's possible," she said thoughtfully.
Love is when you find that thing, when you want to give more than you want to take. When you find the things that you love the most and you want to give those away, that's love. It's when you want somebody to be happier than yourself, but then once you make them happy, it makes you happier.
It's a different thing to write a love story now than in the time of Jane Austen, Eliot, or Tolstoy. One of the problems is that once divorce is possible, once break-ups are possible, it can all become a little less momentous.
At this moment, life is trying to love you and give to you in a million wonderful ways. When you say Yes, you allow love to flow, which is the greatest gift you can give yourself and the universe . . . What do you want that you could be more open to receiving?
An authentic and genuine life grows like a sturdy tree. And like a tree, it grows slowly. Every time you make a different and better decision, it grows a little. Every time you choose to do the right thing, even when nobody would find out otherwise, it grows a little. Every time you act with compassion, relinquish your right to strike back, take a courageous stand, admit fault or accept responsibility, it grows a little.
I didn't know what hate felt like, not the hate that comes after love. It's huge and desperate and it longs to be proved wrong. And every day it's proved right it grows a little more monstrous. If the love was passion, the hate will be obsession. A need to see the once-loved weak and cowed beneath pity. Disgust is close and dignity is far away. The hate is not only for the once loved, it's for yourself too; how could you ever have loved this?
Love is patient. Love is kind. Love always forgives, trusts, supports, and endures. Love never fails. When every star in the heavens grows cold, and when silence lies once more on the face of the deep, three things will endure: faith, hope, and love.
Once you dye your hair for the first time, you see other people with dyed hair, and you see them differently than you did before. And you're just like 'Yes! Live! Work that color! Yes, I love you in every way! You're killin' it! I want to do that color next!'
For surely as each November has its April, mysteries only are significant; and one mystery-of-mysteries creates them all: nothing false and possible is love (who's imagined,therefore limitless) love's to giving as to keeping's give; as yes is to if,love is to yes
Before you can give of yourself to others you must know what of yourself you have to give. Every person is special. In all the land there is only one you, possibly two, but seldom more than sixteen.
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