Love, true love, is always fatal. What I mean is, it does not aim at happiness, at an idyll, at a hand-in-hand eternity of sentimental walks under flowering lime trees, with a gentle light burning on the veranda behind, the house swimming in cool scents. Life can be that, but not love. Love burns with a fierce, more dangerous flame. One day you discover a desire in yourself to encounter this all-consuming passion.
translated by George Szirtes
Sándor MáraiHungarian author 11 April 1900 — 21 February 1989 |
Portraits of a MarriageAlfred A. Knopf |
Details:Time of publication: September 24, 2011 Length: 417 characters Favorited by: 3 members |