Born to Love

In Love's Labour's Lost, Berowne pronounces, "We cannot cross the cause why we were born." And in those few words tells us that life without love is not possible. He goes on some lines following that one to make a long dissertation about why oaths against love are unlawful and therefore lawfully broken.

He's talking about women, of course, but tonight I'm in love with words. I love to fit them into places they might not at first glance seem to belong. I like to rearrange them. I even mold them at times.

T.S. Eliot said it better than I ever could in "Burnt Norton":

Words move, music moves
Only in time; but that which is only living
Can only die. Words, after speech, reach
Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern,
Can words or music reach
The stillness, as a Chinese jar still
Moves perpetually in its stillness.

I cannot touch the Chinese jar, but words can. They last. They move.