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Becky M.R. Quotes

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“Oh, love. Dearest and wildest of things! You cannot force love. Just like confidence or humility; like spring and rain — it is, or it isn’t. Love is like a wild songbird; you cannot be proud to own her, nor cage her in order to possess her, and then ask her to keep silent. You cannot own her nor can you tame her; she needs to be free, you need to let go of it. Open the gates of that cage and let her go, let her fly away. She must be free to decide if she wants to stay. If she goes away, she must be free to decide if she wants to come back. Love is the wildest of creatures; she is not easy to find nor is she easy to keep. She is priceless, yet she isn’t for free, but if she isn’t free she cannot be true — it cannot be love.”

“I searched for you in the forest– in every trace of sky and soil, in every space of rest and soul. I searched for you along the highway, in every city, in every valley, in every place I stepped in and every door I walked out. I searched for you in my dreams– in every bliss, in every storm, in every wish, in every hope. I searched for you in my thoughts, in every text, in every chord, in every breath, in every song. I searched for you in these verses; in every rhyme, in every word, in every smile, in every poem. I searched for you.”

“I searched for you in this valley– in every ray of sun, in every drop of water. In every purple song, in every sunset mourning. I searched for you in imagined kiss– in every word I couldn’t invent, in every touch I can’t resist. I searched for you at midnight; in every star I looked upon, in every dream, desire and storm. I searched for you right here; in every touch that I keep inventing, in every word I keep repeating. I searched for you.”

“Up to the Ancient Skies, caught in the storms of the sea of Galilee, we float, we fear, we grow, we grieve, but we believe. Upon every scary night, there is a starry sky. We flow down with the river. We flow with the purifying hope of the Jordan river; we cry, we sing, like a shelter home of love and liberty. We go down with the river with old pain, new wounds and countless scars. We shall rest so we can heal. Anytime soon, our pain shall cease. Until the river meets the sea, we shall cast away our pain and wash away our tears, for there is nothing left to fear. Out of the depths of misery into a place of love, safety, beauty and mystery, our pain shall drown — down to the depths of the Dead Sea. And so shall it remain through all the ages of all the ancient skies and olive trees.”

“We are given this hope – we are give this promise. A promise to a brand new night of moonlight sonata. The hope to an enduring, cheering and nurturing dawn joined by brand new chapters written under the care and witness of thirteen thousand five hundred and sixty-five piles of ancient stars, long trips, old books, new dreams, long kiss and fairy tales – laid under the protective smiles and strong arms of thirteen miles of these old and wise olive trees.”

“You were my beloved lacrimarium, my purgatoryx, a red light candle night; a wide lost room in our love's dimension. You were the sunlight reflected upon the moon's eyes, the zephyr of dawn that fell down so conscious. You were my broken unguentarium, a paradox, my funerary and my resurrection. You were the sword and the wound; I was the pain and its sorrow. You were my beloved lacrimarium; once a funereal monody - now my heart's unguentarium and this eternal melody.”