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You can't build marriage on a foundation of selfish hedonism, because that would be to promise people only roses, and marriage is also thorns.
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It would be a miracle, for example, if I dropped a stone and it rose upwards. But is it no miracle that it falls to the ground?
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The wine glasses are empty except for that one undrinkable red spot at the bottom.
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Ive always loved my red wine, and when Im not working I can open a bottle too many. I love to cook, so its one for me and one for the casserole. I would consume a bottle of wine on my own of an evening and then literally pass out.
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I can see it, hear it, feel it, taste it - but I can never be on the inside of it with you. I cannot even be sure whether I really know what it is like. Is it 'like' my own? Or incomparable? Just as I can never know if what you see at any given moment is exactly the same as what I see. We look at a colour. We both call it red. But it is only because we have been taught to call it by that name. There is no guarantee - not ever - that we see it in the same way, that your red is my red.
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Peace is a very complicated concept. When the lion gobbles up the lamb and wipes his lips, then there's peace. Well, I ain't for that peace at all.
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My advice is keep your lips away from the spinning things.
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A family is like medicine." She twisted her lips into a sardonic smile. "Best in small doses.
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An old wine-bibber having been smashed in a railway collision, some wine was poured on his lips to revive him.
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We are ghosts, hungry for something bigger than what our lips are kissing.
