"... That's the problem with Love, we come into it with all these ideas; it comes from our parents and our families and what we experienced and seen as children on what we idealize as "Love" ...
I always reflect on this poem, this William Yeats poem that says:
I met the Bishop on the road
And much said he and I.
`Those breasts are flat and fallen now
Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion,
Not in some foul sty.'
`Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,' I cried.
'My friends are gone, but that's a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness
And in the heart's pride.
`A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'
So, you can't really have Love until it's broken. You can't experience fully what that is until you fall and pick yourself up off of that dirty ground and kind of like wipe all the s*#t off..." - Michael