For years he’d needed to do something – anything – every waking moment. He couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time; there was always something to read or study, always something to write. Little by little, he’d realized he’d lost the ability to relax, and the result was a long period of his life in which months blurred together, with nothing to differentiate one year from the next.
- At First Sight by Nicholas Sparks
I am not complaining about the time lost for the two of us because he is busy working on things that are more important, like studying. Do I have the right to demand that one language of love? I guess so. But I don’t demand that. I want it to be given to me without me asking for it. I want it to be given to me without anyone telling him to do so. I want it to be given to be out of his own free will. I know he tries to do so. And the fact that he tries is enough for me. It’s not settling for anything less, it’s knowing when something is at its state of being “nothing less and nothing more” and living with it.
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