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Mocho was a Spanish word that meant maimed or referred to something that had been lopped off like a stump. To call Homer el mocho was, essentially, to call him "Stumpy" or "the maimed one." It doesn't sound particularly flattering, but among Spanish speakers the giving of nicknames is tantamount to a declaration of love. Things that would sound insulting outright in English were tokens of deep affection when said in Spanish. ↗
They never looked at anyone else, only at each other, with an expression that halted me. It was tender, loving, yes, but in an inhuman way, so intense. Divine, I felt. Or insane. ↗
How you, a weak boy caught in the middle of a storm, both in reality and metaphorically, would risk your life to save some girl—some girl who tortured you, ignored you, destroyed you. ↗
Love gives you the strength to face an army, vampire or human...Love gives you a reason to press on through the storm. Love helps you think clearly and follow the clues ahead, if you know where they lead. ↗
There should be no difficulty in understanding this love. Each one of you knows what love is. You know how restless one is to get close to whomsoever one loves; what pleasure one feels even in taking the name of the beloved and in taking that name again and again; the earnest zest with which one strives to win over one's beloved, and the extent to which one dreads the displeasure of the beloved. Just keep examining to what extent you have attained this love. Peep into your heart and see what is the place of Allah therein. The same shall be your place to Him. ↗
At the time he had closed in upon himself, denying her a place of entry. She was tenacious, aggressive as a lover, had tried to prise the pieces of him apart. Only when she failed had she finally let go, by then months had passed. She loved like she was going to war, but she was also not the kind of woman to wait for a man. Valiant in battle, noble in defeat. She walked away and never looked back ↗
Eu quisera concluir que as mais belas página de Jung, ou também as páginas mais belas de cada pessoa que consegue exprimir a própria criatividade, decorrem sempre de uma experiência de sedução, que coincida com a tomada de consciência do próprio mundo interior. Um doloroso caminho que nos impele à loucura, mas ninguém teria dúvida em escolher, entre a inocência e a possibilidade de ser encantado por outro. ↗
