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What was that for?!

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tony soprano privacy rights activist

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All the love I gave,

I wished to have them back,

maybe then I wouldn’t feel

that I wasn’t enough.

Always, Sometimes, Never //ma.c.a

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I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, From waiting to not waiting for you My heart moves from cold to fire. I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly. Maybe January light will consume My heart with its cruel Ray, stealing my key to true calm. In this part of the story I am the one who Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

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I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.

“If you forget me” - Pablo Neruda

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Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.   I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands; how did your lips feel on mine?   Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.   I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your eyes.   Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will do me irreparable harm.   Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.   I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.   Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting stars, falling objects.

Love - Pablo Neruda

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Moare cate putin cine se transforma in sclavul obisnuintei, urmand in fiecare zi aceleasi traiectorii; cine nu-si schimba existenta; cine nu risca sa construiasca ceva nou; cine nu vorbeste cu oamenii pe care nu-i cunoaste. Moare cate putin cine-si face din televiziune un guru. Moare cate putin cine evita pasiunea, cine prefera negrul pe alb si punctele pe "i" in locul unui vartej de emotii, acele emotii care invata ochii sa staluceasca, oftatul sa surada si care elibereaza sentimentele inimii. Moare cate putin cine nu pleaca atunci cand este nefericit in lucrul sau; cine nu risca certul pentru incert pentru a-si indeplini un vis; cine nu-si permite macar o data in viata sa nu asculte sfaturile "responsabile". Moare cate putin cine nu calatoreste; cine nu citeste; cine nu asculta muzica; cine nu cauta harul din el insusi. Moare cate putin cine-si distruge dragostea; cine nu se lasa ajutat Moare cate putin cine-si petrece zilele plangandu-si de mila si detestand ploaia care nu mai inceteaza. Moare cate putin cine abandoneaza un proiect inainte de a-l fi inceput; cine nu intreaba de frica sa nu se faca de ras si cine nu raspunde chiar daca cunoaste intrebarea. Evitam moartea cate putin, amintindu-ne intotdeauna ca "a fi viu" cere un efort mult mai mare decat simplul fapt de a respira. Doar rabdarea cuminte ne va face sa cucerim o fericire splendida. Totul depinde de cum o traim... Daca va fi sa te infierbanti, infierbanta-te la soare Daca va fi sa inseli, inseala-ti stomacul. Daca va fi sa plangi, plange de bucurie. Daca va fi sa minti, minte in privinta varstei tale. Daca va fi sa furi, fura o sarutare. Daca va fi sa pierzi, pierde-ti frica. Daca va fi sa simti foame, simte foame de iubire. Daca va fi sa doresti sa fii fericit, doreste-ti in fiecare zi...

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*becomes everything I dreamed of when I was little and almost doesn’t notice*