Love

 "We can die if all we've done is love."

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 234

This is both a highly atypical and also appropriately typical statement from Pessoa. It's atypical, I would propose, because Pessoa knew desperately little about love. Apparently he never actually had sex, although he kissed a few times, and he may or may not have been in love once (she was in love with him, but his love for her is much more complicated to ascertain). It's typical, I would argue, because it's, well, typically opaque. Is Pessoa discarding the importance and beauty of love or exactly the opposite? I guess it resonated with me right now because I simply assumed that, in my early sixties, I was done with that glorious tomfoolery. Maybe it's enough to head out the door while you're in love with someone, no matter how brief the time you have together, as compared to reflecting back upon a lengthy lost love. I'm not certain the answer, but I also feel very blessed at the moment.