Here's something that's been on my mind from Albert Camus:
"Brute physical desire is easy, but desire at the same time as affection calls for time. One has to travel through the whole land of love before finding the flame of desire. Is that why it's always so hard to desire what one loves?"
~Notebook V, p45
As much as I can't bear to read Sylvia Plath's journal for another moment, I love Albert Camus' Notebooks. I've never loved his novels as much, but his essays and Notebooks are so full of an idealism of the best kind: he allows things to be. I love this idea, but it worries me: what if it takes you too long to find the flame?