Rekindled Love Quotes

Sometimes a woman has experienced too much life to have any blush left in her cheeks, but the man who puts it there is someone not easily forgotten.

I miss him for all the things he forgot to see in himself & if im lucky fate will help us rekindle a flame that never got set alight in the first place.

Children are God's way to rekindle the dwindling magic in relationships.

how short a time the fire of love endures in woman if frequent sight and touch do not rekindle it.

You've always been my safe place, my escape when life gets crazy. You're my calm through every storm.

The dynamics that are required to make any relationship work: Just keep putting your love out there.

Apathy is, too often, a result of overexposure to stressful, highly emotional situations. To rekindle empathy, sometimes we need some space. It's okay to walk away so that you can feel love for someone again. Sometimes for a moment. Sometimes forever.

Daniel?” The throaty question had him closing the space between them, pulling her closer into his embrace. “The way you say my name, that was the second mistake. You haven’t closed your heart yet.

I don’t know if I’ve learned anything yet! I did learn how to have a happy home, but I consider myself fortunate in that regard because I could’ve rolled right by it. Everybody has a superficial side and a deep side, but this culture doesn’t place much value on depth — we don’t have shamans or soothsayers, and depth isn’t encouraged or understood. Surrounded by this shallow, glossy society we develop a shallow side, too, and we become attracted to fluff. That’s reflected in the fact that this culture sets up an addiction to romance based on insecurity — the uncertainty of whether or not you’re truly united with the object of your obsession is the rush people get hooked on. I’ve seen this pattern so much in myself and my friends and some people never get off that line. But along with developing my superficial side, I always nurtured a deeper longing, so even when I was falling into the trap of that other kind of love, I was hip to what I was doing. I recently read an article in Esquire magazine called ‘The End of Sex,’ that said something that struck me as very true. It said: “If you want endless repetition, see a lot of different people. If you want infinite variety, stay with one.” What happens when you date is you run all your best moves and tell all your best stories — and in a way, that routine is a method for falling in love with yourself over and over. You can’t do that with a longtime mate because he knows all that old material. With a long relationship, things die then are rekindled, and that shared process of rebirth deepens the love. It’s hard work, though, and a lot of people run at the first sign of trouble. You’re with this person, and suddenly you look like an asshole to them or they look like an asshole to you — it’s unpleasant, but if you can get through it you get closer and you learn a way of loving that’s different from the neurotic love enshrined in movies. It’s warmer and has more padding to it.

Fruits fail and love dies and time ranges; Thou art fed with perpetual breath, and alive after infinite changes, And fresh from the kisses of death, Of langours rekindled and rallied, Of barren delights and unclean, Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallid And poisonous queen.

Time and time again, we reconnect. It's like the universe nudges us to give it one more chance.

The greatest gift a couple can give their baby is a loving relationship, because that relationship nourishes Baby’s development.

Still, it’s almost too natural to rekindle Jongin’s smile with a tiny “Hello,” and somehow the syllables are perfect on his tongue, perhaps because he’s said it a thousand times already. Perhaps because they’re meant to be.

The greatest love stories are unexpected, unexplained... choreographed chaos played out in God’s timing. It feels like a chance encounter with a familiar stranger... Like a rekindling of an eternal flame.

But the flames did die down, perhaps from lack, perhaps from excess of fuel. Little by little, love was quenched by absence, and longing smothered by routine; and that fiery glow which tinged her pale sky scarlet grew more clouded, then gradually faded away. Her benumbed consciousness even led her to mistake aversion toward her husband for desire for her loved, the searing touch of hatred for the rekindling of love; but, as the storm still raged on and her passion burnt itself to ashes, no help came and no sun rose, the darkness of night closed in on every side, and she was left to drift in a bitter icy void. So the bad days of Tostes began again. She believed herself much more unhappy, now, because she had experienced sorrow, and knew for certain that ti would ever end.

The divorce papers remained unopened in the crisp yellow envelope. He had thrown it on his desk without a backward glance. Between his lashes, his dark chocolate eyes burned with fury but there was something else in the depths that she hadn’t seen in a long time, passion.

Spread love everywhere you go: first of all in your own house. Give love to your children, to your wife or husband, to a next door neighbor. . . . Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness; kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness in your warm greeting. Mother Teresa

A wind blew, and the sand around his drawing scattered. He wrapped his fingers inside his wife's, and Father Time rekindled a connection he had only ever had with her. He surrendered to that sensation and felt the final drops of their lives touch one another, like water in a cave, top meets bottom, Heaven meets Earth. As their eyes closed, a different set of eyes opened, and they rose from the ground as a shared south, up and up, a sun and a moon in a single sky.

O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son, humble beyond all creatures and more exalted; predestined turning point of God's intention; Thy merit so ennobled human nature that its divine Creator did not scorn to make Himself the creature of His creature. The Love that was rekindled in Thy womb sends for the warmth of the eternal peace within whose ray this flower has come to bloom. Here to us, thou art the noon and scope of Love revealed; and among mortal men, the living fountain of eternal hope.

Withdraw from talking about leaving someone behind. Just rekindle the friendship and love while you still have that moment together.

Love never dies. It fizzles out maybe but it stays there in your heart buried by emotions controlling you. Once the fire is rekindled, love resurfaces again, breathes a new life."- Elizabeth's Love Quotes

The Rules For Being Human 1. You will receive a body. You may like it or hate it, but it will be yours for the entire period of this time around. 2. You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called Life. Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn lessons. You may like the lessons or think them irrelevant and stupid. 3. There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of trial and error: Experimentation. The “failed” experiments are as much a part of the process as the experiment that ultimately “works.” 4. A lesson is repeated until learned. A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it, you can then go on to the next lesson. 5. Learning lessons does not end. There is no part of life that does not contain its lessons. If you are alive, there are lessons to be learned. 6. “There” is no better than “here.” When your “there” has become a “here,” you will simply obtain another “there” that will again look better than “here.” 7. Others are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects something you love or hate about yourself. 8. What you make of your life is up to you. You have all the tools and resources you need. What you do with them is up to you. The choice is yours. 9. Your answers lie inside you. The answers to Life’s questions lie inside you. All you need to do is look, listen and trust. 10. You will forget all this. Chérie Carter-Scott

Love is easy to rekindle, but once you lose trust . . . it’s hard to go back to the way things used to be.” “The Player.

At the mercy of grace; My mind renewed. My soul restored. My spirit rekindled.

The flames of desire rekindle in the embers of love.

I. My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby. II. What else should he be set for, with his staff? What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare All travellers who might find him posted there, And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare. III. If at his counsel I should turn aside Into that ominous tract which, all agree, Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly I did turn as he pointed, neither pride Now hope rekindling at the end descried, So much as gladness that some end might be. IV. For, what with my whole world-wide wandering, What with my search drawn out through years, my hope Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope With that obstreperous joy success would bring, I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring My heart made, finding failure in its scope. V. As when a sick man very near to death Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end The tears and takes the farewell of each friend, And hears one bit the other go, draw breath Freelier outside, ('since all is o'er,' he saith And the blow fallen no grieving can amend;') VI. When some discuss if near the other graves be room enough for this, and when a day Suits best for carrying the corpse away, With care about the banners, scarves and staves And still the man hears all, and only craves He may not shame such tender love and stay. VII. Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest, Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ So many times among 'The Band' to wit, The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressed Their steps - that just to fail as they, seemed best, And all the doubt was now - should I be fit? VIII. So, quiet as despair I turned from him, That hateful cripple, out of his highway Into the path he pointed. All the day Had been a dreary one at best, and dim Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim Red leer to see the plain catch its estray. IX. For mark! No sooner was I fairly found Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two, Than, pausing to throw backwards a last view O'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round; Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound. I might go on, naught else remained to do. X. So on I went. I think I never saw Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve: For flowers - as well expect a cedar grove! But cockle, spurge, according to their law Might propagate their kind with none to awe, You'd think; a burr had been a treasure trove. XI. No! penury, inertness and grimace, In some strange sort, were the land's portion. 'See Or shut your eyes,' said Nature peevishly, It nothing skills: I cannot help my case: Tis the Last Judgement's fire must cure this place Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.

To lose such a love, is to smell the last scent of a candle before it is blown out. Such a love does not need to be relit or rekindled. It will find itself, in new days and new moments. And so, don't raise an anxious hand to relight what has already gone out. In those moments alone in the dark, you will hear the sound of your heart, pounding so hard that by its very own will, it will create a spark. Follow that light, follow that love, because that love is going to lead you within, to the true foundation of love.

For every field planted and grown, for every tree rekindled from their rotting root beds, comes that ancient instinct, that hunger for acceptance, for love, for allegiance. It is a poison greater than any we had sown into the earth.

After all relationships had sell-by dates. Sometimes, the ones with the most passion were the ones to burn out faster. Others had a sweet and long-winding coil which burned with slow amicability. At times, it was true, people rekindled a dying ember with a new flame. But they hardly ever noticed the rekindling had come after some time of estrangement - whether physical or emotional. Because people needed newness to make a thing last indefinitely. To make it really last. And because Jan didn't like letting people go, she knew to look for the signs of love's waning. So she could tell how to ease it down slowly into its grave and keep her lovers as friends. Because she really believed people were meant to cross paths. People were meant to stay in your life. There was a reason for all encounters. And relationships had to be cosseted, no matter their shelf life. But they had to be allowed to change shape and form. It had to be given space to grow into something different.

In my yellow room, Sunflowers with purple eyes stands out on a yellow background. They bath their stems in a yellow pot, on a yellow table. In a corner of the painting, the signature of the painter: Vincent. And the yellow sun that passes through the yellow curtains of my room floods all this fluorescence with gold. And in the morning upon awakening, from my bed, I imagin that all this smells very good. Oh yes! He loved yellow, this good Vincent, this painter from holland. Those glimmers of sunlight rekindled his soul That abhorred the fog, that needed the warmth. When two of us were together in arles, both of us mad and at constant war over the beauty of color, me, i loved the color red, Where to find a perfect vermilion? He traced with his most yellow brush on the wall, Suddenly turned violet. Je suis saint esprit Je suis sain d'espri. Paul gauguin, 1894.

Just another photograph of a picture from my past. Our souls knew how to love, but our egos won the part, of sabotage, broken hearts. Filled with empty promises of rekindling from the stars. Cosmically connected, interwined in the flame, We may walk different earth journeys for now, but my spirit is still with you every single moment you wake. You don't part with a love like that, easily anyway.

Whatever your age, if you have not yet fallen in love with learning, begin that love affair today. How? Go wherever your interests lead you. It is the perfect place to start. Rekindle a childlike curiosity. Ask why a lot. Free yourself from outcomes; you don’t need a reason and you don’t need to accomplish anything. I

Mislaid flame of tender emotions Rekindled. Together we live to the point of tears, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Suppressed grief is like an ember. It radiates a burning glow in the chest. If disregarded, it could rekindle a fire.

I left my house for his mansion, one last time, with a determination to end the biggest and only mistake of my life; my marriage.

Thinking to rekindle old flames of lust? I won't stop you, nobody can. The only way you'll learn is by burning again and again.

Revive, Rekindle, Rejoice.

Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another. George Eliot

At the age of twenty-two, suspecting their time was limited, Ichimei and she had gorged on love to enjoy it to the full, but the more they tried to exhaust it, the wilder their desire became, and whoever says that every flame must sooner or later be extinguished is wrong, because there are passions that blaze on until destiny destroys them with a swipe of its paw, and even then hot embers remain that need only a breath of oxygen to be rekindled.

It seems to me, therefore, that the instinctive although seldom articulated purpose of holding a funeral or memorial service is to reunite the people most intimate with the deceased, and to collectively rekindle in them all, for one last time, the special living flame that represents the essence of that beloved person, profiting directly or indirectly from the presence of one another, feeling the presence of that person in the brains that remain, and thus solidifying to the maximal extent possible those secondary personal gemmae that remain aflicker in all these different brains. Though the primary brain has been eclipsed, there is, in those who remain and who are gathered to remember and reactivate the spirit of the departed, a collective corona that still glows. This is what human love means. The word "love" cannot, thus, be separated from the word "I"; the more deeply rooted the symbol for someone inside you, the greater the love, the brighter the light that remains behind.

And the more sexual images men and women absorb, the more they move from "subjective attraction," colored by love and the emotions, to "objective attraction," determined by an expertise in the human body that is rarely healthy to acquire. How many women begin to feel that their bodies are inadequate not intrinsically but in comparison to others? Too many.

Stella. I cannot wait to see her and hold her in my arms once more. I long for my stellina. I worry that the distance between us will someday create cracks in our love that cannot be mended. Our time together sometimes seems thin, like a spice or other flavor is missing. I need to think of something I can do more to seal our love together, to rekindle our fire so we will always long for each other.

Believe it or not, you can have a relationship electrified by sexual tension if you want it. You can be married to one person and keep the burning fires of lust alive. You don’t have to have an open marriage or litter your home with several partners. And you don’t have to endure a sexless marriage where you feel dead inside. Plenty of couples have done it—they’ve kept the flames of romantic desire lit.

I could never marry Mr. Finch, not after he tried to take liberties with me.” His head shot up, the old fire rekindled. “He did what?” She almost regretted saying that. “He forced himself upon me.” “How?” “He attempted a kiss I neither wanted nor encouraged.” “Oh.” Father waved a hand. “Is that all?” “That is quite enough. It proves he does not love me, though I can’t imagine why he insisted on marrying a woman who despised him.” “You would grow to love him.” “Like Mother grew to love you?” she snapped. “Precisely.” She

Through reading the Bible, drunkards become sober, thieves become honest, prostitutes become pure, and drug addicts become clean. Anger, bitterness, and resentment yield to loving forgiveness, mercy, and graciousness. Selfish greed gives way to unselfish service. Crumbling marriages are rebuilt. Broken relationships are rekindled. Shattered self-esteem is restored. In God’s Word, the weak find strength, the guilty find forgiveness, the discouraged find new joy, and the despairing find hope. The same Holy Spirit who inspired the Bible writers inspires those who read it.

When it comes to porn, women have to be particularly aware of the effect it has on men. While studies have found that both men and women are more open to straying after viewing porn, this impacts men a lot more than women, as does relationship dissatisfaction in general. While many women can watch porn and still maintain intimacy with their partner, men struggle to do the same. Their thoughts are fixated on images more than women's are. One study found that men considered their partners less attractive after viewing sexually explicit pictures of other women. Researchers believe this is because exposure to these images causes men to undergo a kind of rewiring in their brain about what a typical naked body should look like. So while women might be able to view porn and honestly say it doesn't affect how they view their partner, they can't assume the same is true for their guy. He might not admit it or even realize it, but studies have shown this to be true and it fits with a man's highly visual nature. If a woman doesn't want another woman in her partner's thoughts, she shouldn't tolerate him watching porn - not when he's alone or even with her.

I want to end here with the most common and least understood sexual problem. So ordinary is this problem, so likely are you to suffer from it, that it usually goes unnoticed. It doesn't even have a name. The writer Robertson Davies dubs it acedia. “Acedia” used to be reckoned a sin, one of the seven deadly sins, in fact. Medieval theologians translated it as “sloth,” but it is not physical torpor that makes acedia so deadly. It is the torpor of the soul, the indifference that creeps up on us as we age and grow accustomed to those we love, that poisons so much of adult life. As we fight our way out of the problems of adolescence and early adulthood, we often notice that the defeats and setbacks that troubled us in our youth are no longer as agonizing. This comes as welcome relief, but it has a cost. Whatever buffers us from the turmoil and pain of loss also buffers us from feeling joy. It is easy to mistake the indifference that creeps over us with age and experience for the growth of wisdom. Indifference is not wisdom. It is acedia. The symptom of this condition that concerns me is the waning of sexual attraction that so commonly comes between lovers once they settle down with each other. The sad fact is that the passionate attraction that so consumed them when they first courted dies down as they get to know each other well. In time, it becomes an ember; often, an ash. Within a few years, the sexual passion goes out of most marriages, and many partners start to look elsewhere to rekindle this joyous side of life. This is easy to do with a new lover, but acedia will not be denied, and the whole cycle happens again. This is the stuff of much of modern divorce, and this is the sexual disorder you are most likely to experience call it a disorder because it meets the defining criterion of a disorder: like transsexuality or S-M or impotence, it grossly impairs sexual, affectionate relations between two people who used to have them. Researchers and therapists have not seen fit to mount an attack on acedia. You will find it in no one’s nosology, on no foundation's priority list of problems to solve, in no government mental health budget. It is consigned to the innards of women's magazines and to trashy “how to keep your man” paperbacks. Acedia is looked upon with acceptance and indifference by those who might actually discover how it works and how to cure it. It is acedia I wish to single out as the most painful, the most costly, the most mysterious, and the least understood of the sexual disorders. And therefore the most urgent.

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Everything has its price," Reverend Willows said. "The sunset costs us the moment in which we pause to look at it. We pay for a great love or a great dream in self-discipline, in self-sacrifice, in the giving of our love and our time and sometimes the sacrificing of our happiness." He grew silent. After a moment she realized that he was praying, his head bowed, his eyes closed. She was embarrassed, thinking that she was an intrusion upon his privacy, but when a moment later he opened his eyes, he smiled with surprising shyness and said, "A very impressive cathedral, isn't it?" He left her there. She looked and saw that the sky had turned pink and coral and gray, and as the light of dawn was born in the sky, a new light was born within her, too. There was a new day before them and with it new hope, new possibilities. A thousand men before her, a thousand million people, had looked up at the reddening sky or had seen the fragile green budding of the trees in spring, had heard the sudden song of a bird winging skywar, and had felt hope rekindled in their breasts. The dark night was over, the long winter ended, God was still in his heaven. How plain, how often repeated those homilies, yet what succor they gave. A bird cried somewhere in the rocks above her, and now in the distant valley she could see the glow of campfires and the smoke rising from the brown bosom of the land. At last she turned and went down the path to the wagons. And she, child of the earth, felt a thrill of response within her. She was thousands of miles from France. Between here and there lay an entire continent and a vast ocean, and yet in her heart she suddenly felt that she had come home.

Be real with Father and resist the urges to crawl back into your shell and silently endure lifelessness.

Multimodal neurons connect to sensations, perceptions, emotions, memories, and auditory, olfactory, and visual stimuli. And so it is theorized that mirror neurons not only reflect the visible action of another person, they also reflect that which is not visible--the unconscious intentions and feelings of you and another person in a meaningful relationship.

Love is essential to the survival of human beings; it is the greatest spur there is to that driving impulse of every living creature: procreation.

mirror neurons create bonds of empathy, emotional attunement, and reciprocity between people.

Feeling “in love” is something you can enjoy and continue to rekindle over the years. But it should not determine your commitment level to your marriage.

Well, that clears up one thing. And you’re here, Sean, because?” she asked, her tone arch. Well, Kaye, I’m here because of your daughter. As a matter of fact, I was just about to make love to Lily when you showed up. And goddammit, I’m so hard I might crack, he added mentally along with a string of vicious curses. If Sean had been slightly less disciplined, he’d have drawn the sheer curtains in May Ellen’s guest room and tossed Lily’s mother out the window. It wouldn’t hurt. This was a ranch; she’d land in the shrubbery. His fingers twitched. They were coated with the haunting essence of Lily. With Kaye gone, he could pull Lily into his arms again and rekindle the lush-scented heat of her desire. He cast a longing glance toward the curtained window. A flicker of movement outside distracted him for a moment. What was that? he wondered. “Yes, Sean?” Kaye prompted ever so sweetly. Sean realized he hadn’t gotten around to answering Kaye. “I’m here to give Lily a hand.” He’d be giving her his body if Kaye hadn’t waltzed in. “And I think Lily’s hair looks great this way. Sexy as hell.

Renewing Love [10w] What first made you fall in love can rekindle it.

From the ashes, you rose, Phoenix. Rekindled from a spark. You are fire. You are hope. You are everything I need and everything I love. I’m irrevocably in love with you. Will you marry me here? Now. Be mine forever.

Practicing mindfulness by returning to Here allows us to see each moment as a place where God is eternally waiting for us with love.

You can do the best that you can do and conquer your life and future. Your future may seem dark, but running from it will not save you. You can willingly embrace the present and not let it slip away. You wish you can turn back time. You wish to spend your time with your loved ones and cherish what once was yours. You are thankful. You can do the best that you can do and conquer your life and future. Your future may seem dark, but running from it will not save you. You may fail. You may fall. You may achieve defeat. You may loss. You are facing failure and others have faced the failures in life too. You can conquer. The key to success is failure and strength to never give up on your dreams. You can breath in the fresh air and put your mind at ease. You can relax, rejuvenate, restore, reawaken and rekindle." - Shwin J Brad

If there is ever a “time of need” in our lives when it is appropriate to “draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help” (Heb. 4:16), it’s in the midst of our most difficult trials. Suffering is a special type of circumstance in which we must draw upon the lordship and example of Jesus Christ. In fact, it is often as we follow Him through suffering that we experience our deepest intimacy with our Lord.

Those who love Christ are an open rebuke to the society in which they live. That was the apostle Peter’s point when he described Christians as “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession . . . [who] proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called [them] out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Pet. 2:9). Our dark world will resent and be hostile toward anyone who represents the Lord Jesus Christ in that way. That resentment and hostility may be felt at certain times and places more than others, but it is always present to some extent. Fortunately, we have One to whom we can turn when we suffer—the very One who suffered for us: the Lord Jesus Christ. Peter wrote, “For you have been called for this purpose, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example for you to follow in His steps” (v. 21). Peter’s model of how to respond to suffering was Jesus Christ, and we need to follow His example.

The table found its balance and the chairs took their places. God gives us balance that we may partake of what He has prepared for our lives.

•My marriage has gone flat. We don’t fight or anything; we just don’t love each other anymore. We’ve gone to counseling; we’ve tried a number of things, but we just can’t seem to rekindle the feeling we used to have.

I don't feel very smart at the moment. I don't think I could just go away and not come back. I mean, all you have to do is look at me and—" "And what?" She peered upward through her lashes at him. "And I practically go to pieces, all right?" "No," he murmured roughly, closing the distance between them. "If you're going to go to pieces, I want it to be in my arms." He slipped his hands inside the robe to her waistline and pulled her against him so mat her naked breasts were crushed against his broad, muscled chest. "And I want to be kissing you." He caught her mouth in a hot, hard kiss that fired her insides and rekindled her desire. -Joy & Caleb

We see Him among the thousands of Galilee, anointed of God with the Holy Ghost and power, going about doing good: with no pride of birth, though He was a king; with no pride of intellect, though omniscience dwelt within Him; with no pride of power, though all power in heaven and earth was in His hands; or of station, though the fullness of the Godhead dwelt in Him bodily; or of superior goodness or holiness: but in lowliness of mind esteeming every one better than Himself, healing the sick, casting out devils, feeding the hungry, and everywhere breaking to men the bread of life. We see Him everywhere offering to men His life for the salvation of their souls: and when, at last, the forces of evil gathered thick around Him, walking, alike without display and without dismay, the path of suffering appointed for Him, and giving His life at Calvary that through His death the world might live.1

Once again, I apologize for your fall. I should have guessed that the reason for your refusal was because you were unable to move so swiftly.” He reached out to her hand and asked, “Can you forgive me?” She saw no reason to be petty, but gave a brief nod, pulling back her hand from his. “I accept your apology. And now, I think you should go.” Once again, he wasn’t listening. “I want to begin again. I know that I’ve made mistakes, dearest Rose. I want to set aside the months we lost and rekindle what there was between us.” Dearest Rose? Why on earth would he call her that? And she was now well aware that there had been nothing between them. Nothing at all. “You sent me six letters in six months. I hardly think there was much between us, Lord Burkham.” “But we were good friends. That is, we are good friends,” he corrected. His smile broadened. “I still believe we would suit each other quite well. You are a beautiful lady, and friendship leads to a strong marriage, I believe.” No, love does, she corrected silently. But now she had the answer she’d anticipated. And while it saddened her to think of the young woman she’d been, who had given her heart so freely to this man, she was glad that she hadn’t married him. “We can remain friends, my lord. But that is all.” He appeared oblivious to her refusal and beamed at her. “I am so glad to hear it, Lady Rose.” With a glance over at the refreshments, he inquired, “Would you like a glass of lemonade? Are you thirsty?” Rose wasn’t, but she nodded. It gave her a way of sending him off, leaving her to be alone with her thoughts. She

If you’ll give me a chance, I’d just like a chance to show you that I—I’m sorry, Brie. Can’t we—? Can’t we try again? See each other? See if we can rekindle some of what we had? I know it’ll take time…. If we can’t, I have no one to blame but myself, but can we just—” She gave a huff of laughter. “Poor Brad,” she said. “You went from two women who couldn’t get enough of you to no one. You’re not getting laid, are you? You’re pathetic!” “I know you’re angry—you should be. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Just give me time, give us time—” “No!” she yelled at him. “No!” And then she started to laugh again. “God, you don’t know how long I waited to hear you say that! Even while I was hating you, I might have taken you back!” She shook her head in disbelief. “Jesus! Thank God you didn’t pull this sooner.” “Brie—” “For God’s sake, do I want anything to do with a man who can cheat on his wife because there’s some kind of physical thing? Something you can’t even explain? Forgive me, but I thought we had something physical!” “We did. We will again.” “No. No. Go. Get out of here. You left me for my best friend and now you’d like to see if we can rekindle something? Oh, you are such a fool. What did I ever see in you? Why didn’t I know this about you? Go!” “No, Brie, there’s more.” “I can’t take any more,” she said. “They found him.” She was stunned for a second. She couldn’t breathe. “What?” she asked. “What did you say?” He took a deep breath. “They found him—Jerome Powell. He’s in Florida. They have him in custody there. They’re working on the extradition. I think you’ll get a call tomorrow from the D.A. I heard it at work.” She took a step toward him. “Why didn’t you tell me this first?” she asked in a furious whisper. “Because I wanted you to know that I love you. I’d like to be with you through this. With you when they bring him back. I want to take care of you.” “Oh, my God,” she said in a breath. “You thought I’d take you back out of fear? Helplessness? You’re an idiot, that’s what you are! A big, stupid, goddamn idiot!” He hung his head. “Don’t you think I feel pretty terrible about what happened? Haven’t I been around since it happened? Don’t you think it’s killing me? Hell, Brie—that’s probably what broke me and Christine apart.” She started to laugh again, but tears smarted in her eyes at the same time. “It’s all about you, isn’t it, Brad?” There was a sweet voice in her head. There will be no taking, mija. Only giving. “I want a chance to try to make it right,” he said. “Well, you can’t. No one can make it right, especially you. You made your choice, Brad. You’re stuck with it.

Love rekindles lose hope.

To those who have found the love of their lives: May you never stay out of love, taking every effort to rekindle the magic moment when both of you first held hands. To those who are waiting for the love of their lives: May you never lose that belief in love, that magical moment when all that really matters is to fall in love.

Love rekindles lose hope

Let me show you how beautiful life is, Let me take away all your pain; Let me rekindle your faith in love, Let me make you believe in magic again!

You don’t need to go searching for your passion outside; you simply need to look within, rekindle it and let your light shine.

The first intimation of a new romance for a woman of the court was the arrival at her door of a messenger bearing a five-line poem in an unfamiliar hand. If the woman found the poem sufficiently intriguing, the paper it was written on suitable for its contents and mood, and the calligraphy acceptably graceful, her encouraging reply—itself in the form of a poem—would set in motion a clandestine, late-night visit from her suitor. The first night together was, according to established etiquette, sleepless; lovemaking and talk were expected to continue without pause until the man, protesting the night’s brevity, departed in the first light of the predawn. Even then he was not free to turn his thoughts to the day’s official duties: a morning-after poem had to be written and sent off by means of an ever-present messenger page, who would return with the woman’s reply. Only after this exchange had been completed could the night’s success be fully judged by whether the poems were equally ardent and accomplished, referring in image and nuance to the themes of the night just passed. Subsequent visits were made on the same clandestine basis and under the same circumstances, until the relationship was either made official by a private ceremony of marriage or ended. Once she had given her heart, a woman was left to await her lover’s letters and appearances at her door at nightfall. Should he fail to arrive, there might be many explanations—the darkness of the night, inclement weather, inauspicious omens preventing travel, or other interests. Many sleepless nights were spent in hope and speculation, and, as evidenced by the poems in this book, in poetic activity. Throughout the course of a relationship, the exchange of poems served to reassure, remind, rekindle or cool interest, and, in general, to keep the other person aware of a lover’s state of mind. At the same time, poetry was a means of expressing solely for oneself the uncertainties, hopes, and doubts which inevitably accompanied such a system of courtship, as well as a way of exploring other personal concerns.

We're us," he murmurs in my ear. "We're us again.

There is another way that longing comes to expression. It is in a sense of wonder or adventure. It is right to distinguish this, as Palmer does, from selfish curiosity: this is a longing for the real that implies my readiness to engage it, and that for its own sake, and for the sake of the wonder of what will transpire when knower and known meet in creative communion. Palmer says that “knowledge contains its own morality, that it begins not in a neutrality but in a place of passion within the human soul.” Indeed, to rekindle the longing to know is thus to invite the real. But now this starts to lean toward the active side of desire." (from "Loving to Know: Covenant Epistemology" by Esther Lightcap Meek)

Research has shown that during the first three years of life, fundamental neural structures are being built that have to do with Baby’s self-soothing, his ability to focus attention, his trust in his parents’ love and nurturance, and the security of his attachment to his mother and father. In other words, Baby’s experiences of parental respect and love are literally laying down patterns of brain tissue that will dictate Baby’s future responses to the world.

TRY IMITATING BABY. Doing exactly what Baby is doing will fascinate her. • ATTUNEMENT. Here’s a twist on imitation. Babies love it when we imitate them in a different way than they are acting. For example, if Baby is banging a spoon in a rhythm, we can imitate that rhythm with our voice. This will really catch Baby’s interest. Baby

Contempt is toxic, indeed. What’s the alternative? The antidote for contempt is to express our appreciation and respect for each other, to each other, in small ways, every day. How often do we say, “Thanks for doing the dishes,” or “I love how you look when you’re nursing Annie”? It’s words like these that we need to say, often. They shouldn’t stay bottled up inside us. Admiration and fondness, when they are outwardly expressed, go a long way toward creating a culture of appreciation in our homes—that’s the antidote for contempt. •

You needed to rekindle your sister’s lost power of love…so you made up this game!” “We need a prince. All of us.

Is there something you are inexplicably driven to complete and you can no more stop yourself than you can turn back time? Is this a mission of mercy, meant for goodness and healing? For love and kindness? Because you have to ask yourself that. This is not a season to heal your own wounds at the expense of another—but a time for rekindling love and moving ahead into a better world. Isn’t that what the birth of Christ promised? A better world? Then we have to ask ourselves—do I see the way? Do I see—do I feel the star in the east? Am I being led? Marcie

À la mémoire de Mamu, ma grand-mère, Qui m’a laissé au cœur et aux poumons, cette braise ronde de pur amour, Que j’essaie de rallumer, Avec mes pauvres moyens, à chaque respiration. In memory of Mamu, my grandmother, Who left me in the heart and in the lungs, this round ember of pure love, That I try to rekindle, With my poor means, with each breath.

I don’t know how many years had passed that I hadn’t thought about her. It was a few months after the death of my mother that her name came to me again. I was cleaning out her closet and dresser to donate some of her clothes to the Church. They always had clothes drives to give to some of the poorer people in the area. Better for someone else to have them than just hanging in a closet or in a drawer. At the bottom of one of her drawers, my eyes saw an envelope with my name on. Immediately, I recognized the handwriting on the envelope and for the first time in a long time, I could feel the tears flowing out of my eyes. This wasn’t no single tear drop cry. This was the big, fat, messy tears that come from memories flashing through your mind. Tiffany did write something to me and it was kept from me. I almost unintentionally crumpled the letter in my hand as the combination of hurt and rage took over me for a few moments. I went back to my bedroom and sat down on the edge of my bed. The letter had her North Carolina address on it. That letter would have been a way for us to stay in touch. For almost eight years, I had believed that she didn’t want to stay in contact with me. In that moment, I realized that the hurt I felt for being disregarded was unfounded and she was the one who had the right to feel forgotten. She must have believed that she meant little to me, like I thought she did of me. It’s weird how quickly your perspective can change when given new information. I held that letter in my shaking hands for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to do. Opening it seemed pointless to me. All it would do was rekindle feelings that I once had and couldn’t do anything about. After all those years, I couldn’t try and reconnect to her life. We both moved past each other and it wouldn’t be fair to her to come back. It wouldn’t make her feel good about herself to know that my parents hid that letter from me, like she was some horrible person that I needed to avoid. She may not even live at that address anymore. She undoubtedly moved away for college. I wasn’t in love with her anymore and I don’t know if she ever loved me, but if she did, I’m sure she didn’t anymore. I did the only thing that I felt was right. I went outside and lit a cigarette in the backyard. I took a deep inhale from my Camel full flavored filtered cigarette. I hadn’t converted to menthols, yet. I re-lit my lighter and put a corner of the letter into the flame until I was certain that it had caught fire. I held it in my hand watching the white of the envelope turn black under the blue and yellow flame. Once the envelope was about three quarters burned, I let it fall out of my hand and watched it float for a few moments before it hit the bottom concrete step where it continued to burn. It had all turned black and the carbonized paper started to break away from each other as I stamped out the embers with my sneaker. The wind carried away the pieces of carbon and the memory of her floated away from me. Watching those small burned pieces of paper scatter across my backyard made me realize that my childhood was over. I had nothing to show for it. All I had was myself. I didn’t even know why I was still living in my parent’s house after my mother died. There was nothing there for me. Life would only begin for me once I found something that mattered to me. Unfortunately for me, the only thing that mattered to me was words.

Lord Jesus Christ, in Genesis, we are told that it is not good for us to be alone. Help us to remember this as we work toward healing our marriage. Help us to overcome the pride that might stop us from reaching out for assistance. Give us the wisdom we need to seek good counsel and the humility we need to accept and use the help we receive. Walk with us on our journey, and grant us the ability to cooperate fully with your abundant grace. We place our marriage at the foot of your Cross. As we join our struggle to your Cross, we ask that you would allow us to also rise with you so that the love you would rekindle in our hearts would be a sign to us and the world of the wonders your grace can do. We ask

True love doesn’t allow you to give up, child. You may feel like you’ve barely survived a tornado, all battered and bruised with your world in shambles around you, but you dig deep for that inner strength. You rebuild a love stronger than the one that was there before.

The Ludicrous Pragmatic by Stewart Stafford Love is anaesthesia, Of the human condition, Honeyed, layman's nostrum, healing body and mind. An auction won unbidden, Self-created, human-sustained, Unlike energy, destructible, morphing into vicious hatred. Convalescing in a void, baby steps towards others, a sentient river to the sea, Until love's exhumed again. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

Just as the body needs rest to recuperate from expended energy, you must spend time apart to chase your goals and find your purpose to rekindle the relationship.

I learned with time that happiness is really important, and we must cherish those who make us smile. They rekindle our emotions and make us alive.

...an incisive, smartly informative memoir that celebrates the power of the cohesive family unit—its outcome will offer positivity and hope to those facing similar challenges. —KIRKUS REVIEWS Deep Waters is a survival story of the highest order, navigating the complex terrain of marriage, medical crisis, and a future reimagined. After the trauma of her husband’s stroke, Mathews returns to a basic truth: through love, we discover who we are, and who we hope to become. —CAROLINE VAN HEMERT, award-winning author of The Sun is a Compass Mathews has penned a deeply personal love story with the careful rigor of the scientist she is, free of any giddy prose or rainbows. Instead, Deep Waters comes at the reader with the gloves off and goes a full twelve rounds, documenting in granular detail the fears and conflicts attending a life-altering event that can drive even a strong relationship onto the ropes, and the endurance, commitment, and deep love that can save it. —LYNN SCHOOLER, critically acclaimed author of The Blue Bear and Walking Home With love as rugged and wild as the Alaskan landscape she made home, biologist Beth Ann Mathews tells the story of another wilderness: marriage after a life-altering stroke. Deep Waters is a thoughtful and provoking read, a reminder that life and love are inexplicably fragile and resilient, full of unexpected discovery. —ABBY MASLIN, author of Love You Hard Urgent, informative, emotionally satisfying, and thought-provoking, Deep Waters opens with a harrowing medical mystery and rewards the reader with a loving account of an adventurous partnership made stronger by crisis. —ANDROMEDA ROMANO-LAX, author of Annie and the Wolves We felt like we were there with Beth, sharing her emotions, anguish and struggles through the stroke, hospital stay, and recovery. We felt like part of the family as we read, gasped, cried and hoped for recovery and for peace in her heart.”—TBD BOOK CLUB, Seattle, WA If books were birds, this one would be an arctic tern—powerful and graceful, beset by storms and learning to survive, and more, to thrive. The writing is feather-light yet strong. —KIM HEACOX, author of Jimmy Bluefeather Mathews writes with poignant honesty about the challenges of marriage, family, and community in a moving story that highlights the strengths of human relationships. Deep Waters starts with a bang and just keeps going—lively, vivid, and personal. — ROMAN DIAL, author of The Adventurer’s Son: A Memoir

Your face, now confined to this tiny screen, radiates elegantly. Time, it seems, has been kind to you.

My marriage has gone flat. We don’t fight or anything; we just don’t love each other anymore. We’ve gone to counseling; we’ve tried a number of things, but we just can’t seem to rekindle the feeling we used to have.

STRONG LOVE SPELLS FOR RELATIONSHIPS AND LOVE WHATSAPP ME ON+27790324557 BREAK UP, DIVORCE, SOULMATE CONNECTIONS. REKINDLE BROKEN MARRIAGES OR BRING BACK LOST LOVE. CONSULT A PSYCHIC READING EXPERT IN AFRICA, UNITED STATES, EUROPE AND ASIA.

In "The Devil's Presence," Goldsborough brilliantly captures the Zeitgeist of our troubled times, writing with an honesty and passion that will stir your soul and rekindle your belief that a better world is within our grasp. Richard Feinberg, former White House and State Department official, official book reviewer for "Foreign Affairs." Put "Blood and Oranges" on the L.A. shelf next to Mike Davis' "City of Quartz," a Raymond Chandler or two and a DVD of "Chinatown." Just dive in. And hold on. Arthur Salm, former book editor, "San Diego Union Tribune." The Paris Herald'" is a witty, tender and evocative portrait of Americans in Paris that vividly brings to life the city they loved and made their own. Ronald Steel, author of "Walter Lippmann and the American Century." "Waiting for Uncle John" is a wonderful story that should be read and reread, told and retold. The Cuban people will never support an invader." Alejandro Orfila, former Secretary General of the Organization of American States. "Misfortunes of Wealth" is wonderfully structured and written, a gripping work of social history. I was utterly absorbed while reading it and have been haunted by it ever since. Beth Gutcheon, author of eleven novels including "Still Missing" and "Leeway Cottage." "Rebel Europe" is the most important book I have read in years. Charles Champlain, "The Los Angeles Times.

Lord Jesus Christ, in Genesis, we are told that it is not good for us to be alone. Help us to remember this as we work toward healing our marriage. Help us to overcome the pride that might stop us from reaching out for assistance. Give us the wisdom we need to seek good counsel and the humility we need to accept and use the help we receive. Walk with us on our journey, and grant us the ability to cooperate fully with your abundant grace. We place our marriage at the foot of your Cross. As we join our struggle to your Cross, we ask that you would allow us to also rise with you so that the love you would rekindle in our hearts would be a sign to us and the world of the wonders your grace can do. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen. Our Lady of Good Counsel, pray for us!

I won’t do anything Sara; this is not me trying to get into your pants, or to rekindle what we had. This is just me concerned over a friend I know for a long time and don’t want to lose to a crazed lunatic.

Love rekindles the soul of every man.

We dance to rekindle the soul.

Christmas is a holy time to rekindle our love for another.

We believe that going beyond a quick “I’m sorry”—learning to apologize effectively—can help rekindle love that has been dimmed by pain. We believe that when we all learn to apologize—and when we understand each other’s apology language—we can trade in tired excuses for honesty, trust, and joy.

Though Owen was twenty-four years old, he felt like an old man. His cares and responsibilities were an unshakable burden. He was sick at heart, sick in his soul, and the only force that kept him going was the slender hope of escaping the daily misery his life had become. The thought of seeing Evie again—no, seeing Elysabeth again—both worried him and rekindled sparks of warmth inside his cold iron heart. He had not spoken to her once since the day they had said good-bye at the cistern in the king’s palace seven years ago. He occasionally received letters from her, flowery prose talking about the wonders of Atabyrion and the antics of her two children. He never answered—he could not bring himself to—but he had finally written to tell her of her grandfather’s failing health. He owed her that much, a chance to see her grandfather before he passed. Besides, Owen felt a debt of duty and gratitude to Duke Horwath, enough for him to summon the courage to face the girl he had loved and lost. That she was happy in her marriage to Iago made it worse somehow.

Operagoing at its best is about the rekindling of the soul, about having an open window into what makes us human.