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duminică, 1 septembrie 2013



Love is not a thing you can do.

But when you do other things, love will happen.

There are small things you can do-sitting together,

looking at the moon, listening to music, nothing 
directly to do with love.

Love is very delicate, fragile. 

If you look at it, gaze at it directly, it will disappear.

It comes only when you are unaware, doing something 

else. You cannot go directly, arrow like. 

Love is not a target. It is a very subtle phenomenon; 

it is very shy.

If you go directly, it will hide. If you do something 

directly, you will miss it. 

The world has become very stupid about love. They 

want it immediately. 

They want it like instant coffee-whenever you want it,

 order it, and it is there. 

Love is a delicate art; it is nothing you can do. 

Sometimes those rare blissful moments come ... then 

something of the unknown descends.

You are no longer on the earth; you are in paradise. 

Reading a book with your lover, both deeply absorbed 

in it, suddenly you find that a different quality of being
 has arisen around you both. 

Something surrounds you both like an aura, and 

everything is peaceful.

But you were not doing anything directly. 

You were just reading a book, or just going for a 

long walk, hand-in-hand against the strong wind and 
suddenly it was there. 

It always takes you unaware.

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