Before I understood how to open with you, I tried giving you orgasms so I knew I was a good lover. But now, all I want is your surrender. I want your heart’s pleasure to ripple through your open body and saturate my life with your love. Your body’s openness to love’s flow draws me into you, and through your heart’s surrender I am opened to the love that lives as the universe. Whether you have an orgasm or not while we make love, your body’s trust and devotional openness is my secret doorway to love’s deepest bliss.
—From “Dear Lover,” a book by David Deida
Love is the only bow on life’s dark cloud.
It is the Morning and the Evening Star.
It shines upon the cradle of the babe,
and sheds its radiance upon the quiet tomb.
It is the mother of Art,
inspirer of poet, patriot, and philosopher.
It is the air and light of every heart, builder of every home,
kindler of every fire on every hearth.
It was the first to dream of immortality.
It fills the world with melody,
for Music is the voice of Love.
Love is the magician, the enchanter,
that changes worthless things to joy,
and makes right royal kings and queens of common clay.
It is the perfume of the wondrous flower — the heart
and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon,
we are less than beasts;
but with it, earth is heaven
and we are gods.
Robert G. Ingersoll