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“I'd been treating love like a thing, an achievement, a trophy to be and hung around my neck. People talk about it that way sometimes. My love for you is undying. He never knew my love. It is an error of grammar to make love a noun. It is not a thing you can have. Love—like doubt or hate—is a verb. It has no fixity. Like song, it's truth is in its unfolding. Language is filled with these illusions. A fist, an embrace, A blow—they are actions, not things. Action takes time, and time is the tool of my god.” — Brian Staveley
I'd been treating love like a thing, an achievement, a trophy to be and hung around my neck. People talk about it that way sometimes. My love for you is undying. He never knew my love. It is an error of grammar to make love a noun. It is not a thing you can have. Love—like doubt or hate—is a verb. It has no fixity. Like song, it's truth is in its unfolding. Language is filled with these illusions. A fist, an embrace, A blow—they are actions, not things. Action takes time, and time is the tool of my god.