Love is not about who you live with…
It’s about who you can’t live without.

Zo mooi, alsof je bijna niet bestaat,
en enkel door er toch te zijn verraad
je je aanwezigheid voorzichtig
en ben je waar je zichtbaar bent doorzichtig.

Ruben van Gogh

Soms word ik door een Engel bezocht,
En valt de waarheid bij mij naar binnen

In zo’n moment begrijp ik het heelal,
En begrijp ik dat we de naam van god nooit zullen kennen

Zij is ondefinieerbaar, te groot om begrepen te worden,
We kunnen niets over haar zeggen

Met niets kunnen we haar zijn,
Omhelst de dood de liefde

Niels Thomassen

Your face is beautiful

Your face is beautiful beyond all other faces;
Beyond all music and all poetry
Your face is beautiful to me.
I am reminded always of sea beaches
That lately have been laved with storm
And have no more to show
Now to the searcher than one shell, like snow,
Fluted more deep than shallow-water shells–
Your face is beautiful beyond all other faces,
More to me now than dear remembered places,
More to me now than anything I know.

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

Gezien bij Geespot.
Dankjewel!

Fever

Listen to song by Madonna

You give me
You give me fever

Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that’s so hard to bear
Listen to me baby, hear every word I say
No one can love you the way I do
‘Cause they don’t know how to love you my way

You give me fever, when you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever in the morning
Fever all through the night

Sun lights up the daytime
Moon lights up the night
My eyes light up when you call my name
‘Cause I know you’re gonna treat me right
Bless my soul I love you, take this heart away
Take these arms I’ll never use
And just believe in what my lips have to say

Everybody’s got the fever
That is something you should know
Fever isn’t such a new scene
Fever started long ago

You give me fever, fever
You give me, you give me fever

Romeo loved Juliet
Juliet, she felt the same
When he put his arms around her
He said Julie baby, you’re my flame
He gave her fever

Sun lights up the daytime
Moon lights up the night
My eyes light up when you call my name
‘Cause I know you’re gonna treat me right

Fever, with his kisses
Fever when he holds me tight
Everybody’s got the fever
That is something you should know
Fever isn’t such a new scene
Fever started long ago

Captain Smith and Pocahontas
Had a very mad affair
When her daddy tried to kill him
She said, daddy oh don’t you dare
He gives me fever
With his kisses
Fever when he holds me tight
Fever, I’m his Misses
Daddy, won’t you treat him right

Fever, when you kiss them
Fever, if you live and learn
Fever, ’til you sizzle
What a lovely way to burn

If my Complaints could Passions move

If my complaints could passions move,
Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong:
My passions were enough to prove,
That my despairs had govern’d me too long.
O Love, I live and die in thee,
Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks:
Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me,
My heart for thy unkindness breaks:
Yet thou dost hope, when I despair,
And when I hope, thou mak’st me hope in vain.
Thou say’st thou canst my harms repair,
Yet for redress, thou let’st me still complain.

Can Love be rich, and yet I want?
Is Love my judge, and yet am I condemn’d?
Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant:
Thou made a God, and yet thy power contemn’d
That I do live, it is thy power:
That I desire it is thy worth:
If Love doth make men’s lives too sour,
Let me not love, nor live henceforth.
Die shall my hopes, but not my faith,
That you that of my fall may hearers be
May here despair, which truly saith,
I was more true to Love than Love to me.

Composer: John Dowland (1563-1626)
In: The First Booke of Songs
or ayres of foure parts,
with Tableture for the Lute

schoonheid is een reden tot treurnis
angst dat alles wat buiten is
buiten moet blijven
dat we kussen kunnen
maar niet inlijven
dat we blijven die we geweest zijn
toeschouwers, betasters, bezoekers.

Maar strelen is meer dan tasten
zoals spelen van toetsen is
meer dan het botsen
van speeltuig en huid
Strelen is een uitweg voor treuren,
is wegen maken van onze zinnen
naar een gretig dier van binnen
dat wil springen kunnen
leven beginnen

D. Hillenius