Some say that to give love in one place is to take love from somewhere else ... as if love was a finite quantity. Some, however, bottle up their infinite spring, build a dam to hold it in, and keep the sluice gates firmly closed. Eventually the rust makes all the mechanisms seize up, and if or when they try to open up, at best they produce a trickle of brown, rusty and unpalatable water, and all their potential is squandered. Some say it would be better to plant dynamite and blow up the dam wall; some damage may occur, it may even be fatal, but at least there is the possibility of love being released.
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Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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