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Read at Brett & Astrid’s Wedding Toadbury Hall

Love is like a temporary madness;

It erupts like volcanoes and then subsides

And when it subsides you have to make a decision.

You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined themselves together

That it is inconceivable that you should ever part.

Because this is what love is.

Love is not breathless, it is not excitement,

It is not the promulgation of eternal passion.

That is just being in love, which any fool can do.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love is burned away,

And this is both an art and a fortunate accident.

Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground,

And when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches,

They find that they are one tree and not two.

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“Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.  
How on earth do you explain in terms of Chemistry and Physics so important a biological phenomenon as True Love?
Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour.
Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute –
That’s Relativity . . .”

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I do not love you as if you were salt-rose,
or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda