Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists.
When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves.
We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost.
That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
~ Edmond and Jules de Goncourt ~
When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves.
We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost.
That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
~ Edmond and Jules de Goncourt ~
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