Life may be compared to a piece of embroidery, of which, during the first half of his time, a man gets a sight of the right side, and during the second half, of the wrong. The wrong side is not so pretty as the right, but it is more instructive; it shows the way in which the threads have been worked together. -- Schopenhauer
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Romantic love has to become less earnest, more playful, less arrogant, more ironical, less insistent upon the naked truth, more tolerant of conscious illusion— perhaps even more superficial, more seductive. In short, more interesting.
Once we admit degrees of intimacy, shades of truthfulness, gradations of illusion and deception, we are beginning to understand the erotic as adults.
This guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc, my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.” And the doctor says, “Well, why don’t you turn him in?” The guy says, “I would, but I need the eggs.” Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y’know, they’re totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd. But I guess we keep going through it because most of us need the eggs.
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