"Are not all loves secretly the same? A hundred flowers sprung from a single root. The body’s love will teach the spirit how to love. The spasm of the body’s carnal pleasure, forgetting all things but ecstasy itself, teaches the body to remember the ecstasy of the soul, forgetting all but itself, the moments of oneness, and freedom. The love a man feels only for one other in all the world will teach him, at length, love of all others, of all the world. A cry of joy, whatever its cause, is the one true memory of those wonders the flesh has banished. A cry of love is always a cry of love."
Tanith Lee who died on May 26, 2015
(I saw this posted on tumblr and I know I have already posted it, but I am posting it again. I did not remember Tanith Lee's birthday this year due to a personal tragedy in my own family on May 24. But Tanith Lee was a wonderful writer, an outsider, totally idiosyncratic, and much beloved by this reader. Love is so important. And I feel so lucky to be able to feel it to the capacity that I do. A gift. A challenge. I love sometimes with no expectations. I still love John and though he is dead, the feeling is still palpable. Love is good. Love is loud. Smiling.)
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