May 19, 2014
We love what we love, and the reason doesn't matter.
"I heard what poets write about women. Make up rhymes and rhapsodies, and lie. I have seen sailors on shore silently contemplating the slow undulation of the sea. I have seen old soldiers with leather heart shed tears when they see the colors of their king flying. Believe me, these men know nothing of love. We love what we love. The reason does not come into play. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love something for some reason. That's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite is something else. To know the flaws and love them too. That's unusual, pure and perfect. "