Alba

“Sometimes I learn something about you because you tell me: your history, your family, your life before we met. But just as often my understanding comes from watching you, intuiting, and making associations. You present the facts, I connect the dots, and an image is formed. Your singularities are gradually revealed to me, openly or covertly, intentionally or not. Some places inside of you are easy to reach; others are encrypted and laborious to decode. Over time, I come to know your values, and your fault lines. By witnessing how you move in the world, I come to know how you connect: what excites you, what presses your buttons, and what you’re afraid of. I come to know your dreams and your nightmares. You grow on me. And all this, of course, happens in two directions.”
― Esther Perel

“The historian and essayist Pamela Haag has written a whole book about marriages like Danica and Stefan’s, which she calls “melancholy marriages.” Analyzing the plight of these “semi-happy couples,” she explains: A marriage adds things to your life, and it also takes things away. Constancy kills joy; joy kills security; security kills desire; desire kills stability; stability kills lust. Something gives; some part of you recedes. It’s something you can live without, or it’s not. And maybe it’s hard to know before the marriage which part of the self is expendable . . . and which is part of your spirit.”
― Esther Perel, The State of Affairs: Rethinking Infidelity

“People are always waiting for something to happen before they change their lives. But they have it backward; when you change your life, big things are more likely to happen”
― Jesse Itzler, Living with the Monks: What Turning Off My Phone Taught Me about Happiness, Gratitude, and Focus

“He turned on his side to face me and I felt that he saw deep inside me. He said, “I bless the largeness in you, Ana.” “And I bless yours,” I told him. Then he rose and, opening the door, stared toward the valley with the same deep, pure gaze he’d cast on me. I went to stand beside him and looked in the same direction as he, and it seemed for an instant I saw the world as he did, orphaned and broken and staggeringly beautiful, a thing to be held and put back right. Parting was fully upon us now.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Book of Longings