“The best love stories are written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real … for a moment at least … that long magic moment before we wake.
Love is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Love tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Love is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Love flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true? Perhaps it is because we forget that they are made of love.
We read love stories to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
Let your marriage have this richness. And may yours be among the greatest Love stories ever lived.”
The words of George R.R. Martin adapted by Pastor Marie April Gismondi