I stumbled across this simple yet touching passage this morning in my Kindle highlights from a [most excellent] book, The Wise Man’s Fear: The Kingkiller Chronicles:
We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing because. That’s as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.
To know the flaws and love them too.
Are we each not flawed? Yet, do we not long to be loved; not in spite of those flaws, but because they make us who we are?
Rare and pure and perfect.