For The Romantics Out There

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nbcrusader

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From my daily devotional - a great story for those in love:

German composer Felix Mendelssohn's grandfather, Moses Mendelssohn, was not a handsome man. In addition to his short stature, he also had a hunched back due to a childhood illness to his spine. Though he had physical shortcomings, he was known as the ?Jewish Luther? for his attempts to modernize Judism. A brilliant philosopher and theologian, he was appointed to the court of the King of Prussia. Mendelssohn conceived of God as a perfect Being and had faith in God?s wisdom, righteousness, mercy and goodness.

In the 1760?s, he met a young lady named Fromet Gugenheim, Moses fell madly in love, but Fromet was repulsed by his appearance. Finally getting the courage to talk to her, Moses asked, "Do you believe marriages are made in heaven?" When she said yes, Moses said, "In heaven at the birth of each boy, the Lord announces which girl he will marry. When I was born, my future bride was pointed out to me. Then the Lord said, 'But your wife will be humpbacked.'

Right then and there I called out, 'Oh Lord, a humpbacked woman would be a tragedy. Please, Lord, give me the hump and let her be beautiful.'" Fromet reached out and gave Mendelssohn her hand, and in 1762 became his wife.
 
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Yeah...you just reminded me of one of my favorite poems and based on the title of the thread, here it is, for the romantics out there:


I do not love you as if you were the 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
 
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