Shall we all be condemned to a life of love and loss? or shall some of us encounter the inexplicable lucky life of just love. I fear to think that I may become like that of Ms. Jane Austin; brilliant at what she did, but destined for a life of searing pain and possible regret. To have loved and lost, though of her own accord, and then to have been constantly reminded by the handsome face of her love and his child, for which he named her Jane, is in itself quite insufferable for my rational, but frail emotions.
I have been contemplating a quote I heard once upon a time:
"It is better to have loved and to have lost than to never have loved at all."
I shall know not how I feel about this; a glimpse of truth hanging from every word, yet my heart yearns to scream "blasphemy!" Tis better to have experienced pain? I once heard that without suffering there would be no compassion. But where does that fit? I simply cannot deny that it is a very great thing indeed to have loved; I wish it upon all who seek it. But at what cost, at what sacrifice will we give to know it? Is it truly worth experiencing? my heart says yes but my mind says no.
Ms. Austin became one of the premier authors of her time; the queen dreamer for all innocent girls who became captivated by her thoughts. Though is it true that she could not have that of which she wrote of? That it was impossible to be what she spoke of? Why...
I still long to love. But it would be a very sad day if that were to be lost.
~a humdrum anecdote of a melancoly girl.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment