Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.   To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving. --Gibran

The woods have only the present moment--no future, or past. It is the essence of afternoon, a scent not of leaves but of the present. We too have only this moment in uncharmed time. And for us, in grief or in joy, love lengthens the moment, even as afternoon lengthens the Woods and the world expands. -Jk