It isn't the meaning of love where you somehow desire that one or you want them or want them to love you.
Somehow, the fact that more poor people are on welfare, receiving more generous payments, does not seem to have made this country a nice place to live - not even for the poor on welfare, whose condition seems not noticeably better than when they were poor and off welfare. Something appears to have gone wrong; a liberal and compassionate social policy has bred all sorts of unanticipated and perverse consequences.
"When I speak of love I am not speaking of some sentimental and weak response. I am not speaking of that force which is just emotional bosh. I am speaking of that force which all of the great religions have seen as the supreme unifying principle of life. Love is somehow the key that unlocks the door which leads to ultimate reality. "
However, there's no theme or concept behind Heathen, just a number of songs but somehow there is a thread that runs through it that is quite as strong as any of my thematic type albums.
Lord Maccon reflected upon the state of his life wherein he had somehow gained a spouse who could not give a pig's foot for the latest dresses out of Paris but who whined about not owning an aethographic transmitter. Well, at least the two were comparable obsessions so far as expense was concerned.
So much of the habitat destruction and pollution is based on the simple principle that we somehow have been given free license over other species to degrade the planet.
I always believed that whatever had to be written would somehow get itself written.
If we don't somehow stem the tide of childhood obesity, we're going to have a huge problem.
I think the darker aspect of my fiction-or anybody's fiction-is by its very nature somehow easier to talk about.
Somehow we just dont make the same boisterous fun of Holy Week that we do of Christmas. No one plans to have a holly, jolly Easter.
Somehow the past is a safe place to explore our collective cultural neuroses.
Somehow, somewhere, I know that God loves me, even though I do not feel that love as I can feel a human embrace, even though I do not hear a voice as I hear human words. . . God is greater than my senses, greater than my thoughts, greater than my heart. I do believe that He touches me in places that are unknown even to myself.
Mind is a crowd of many desires; it is not a single desire. Mind is multi-psychic, and all the fragments are falling apart in different directions. It is a miracle how we go on keeping ourselves together; it is a hard struggle to keep oneself together. Somehow we manage, but that togetherness remains only on the surface. Deep down there is turmoil.
Love is not materialistic. It's intangible yet somehow an undeniable feeling. You know it when you have it. I have lots of love in my life and I am blessed.
Somehow, Rush can still sell out arenas. If I was sitting in row one, I would take my chair, unbolt it from the ground and run away.
When we speak quietly one to another things somehow get settled.
I still don't understand anything- exept that somehow I know that You are love. And that in my heart has been so great a love for Christy as I did not know could exist on this earth. You, God, must be responsible. You must have put it there. So what do I do with it now?
Love does whatever it takes to multiply itself and somehow along the way everyone becomes a part of it.
In various memoir pieces, I have traced the trajectory of yearning through decisions made, good and bad, that had somehow kept the ambition on track.
Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad because what is fully mature is very close to rotting