My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Love Beyond Comparison
On reflection, there may be validity in the notion of a single great love, but others are not diminished for being other loves. Others are instead themselves and so complete in themselves. They are different rather than less. Love is not a comparative process.
Labels:
comparison,
differences,
love,
others,
reflection
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