A lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we're married to him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled by our imagination, is the person we wish him to be. The less we know him, of course, the more we love him. And that's why we always remember that first rapturous night when he was a stranger, and why this rapture returns only when he's dead.
Andrew Sean GreerTags: imagination love knowledge passion death memory existentialism knowing-someone
Change was not something you waited for, quietly, mutely, in a house by the ocean, nothing would ever change unless we forced it into shape.
Andrew Sean GreerPerhaps love is a minor madness. And as with madness, it's unendurable alone. The one person who can relieve us is of course the sole person we cannot go to: the one we love. So instead we seek out allies, even among strangers and wives, fellow patients who, if they can't touch the edge of our particular sorrow, have felt something that cuts nearly as deep.
Andrew Sean GreerTags: pain love madness sorrow relationships existentialism strangers allies relief alliances
How remarkable we are in our ability to hide things from ourselves - our conscious minds only a small portion of our actual minds, jellyfish floating on a vast dark sea of knowing and deciding.
Andrew Sean GreerTags: consciousness mind secrets hiding-things
Does love always form, like a pearl, around the hardened bits of life?
Andrew Sean GreerTags: life love existentialism precious-things
No one would have known, from how he held my hand, [that] over the years of heartache he had hatched a plot to change my life forever. He held his grip and would not let me go. I do not know what joins the parts of an atom, but it seems what binds one human to another is pain.
Andrew Sean GreerMargaret herself hadn't known her body was a parish bell tolling at every heartbreak she heard of, and that night with Pete calmly sitting on the edge of her favorite chair, invading her private room with words this room was sealed from, she felt it just as a bell would. It struck her right inside, until her bronze skin rang out the news. Not of Pete's story, which had not even made him cry, but some other story she'd been trying not to tell herself. So she sat stiffly there and wept, clanging and clanging like a thing that tested its own breaking.
Andrew Sean GreerI have a randezvous with life.
Andrew Sean GreerTags: life randezvous
When I meet a woman whose energy falters at the first barrier,she seems to fade beside my mother.
Andrew Sean GreerTags: inspirational woman relationships
It is almost another kind of love, being loved. It is the same heat but from another room; it is the same sound but from a high window...
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