The Nature of Love
Well, now, he was really stupid with love; there wasn’t a bit of fun left in him. He was good for nothing on earth but sitting under bushes, smoking tobacco and sighing till you’d wonder where he got the wind for it all. Now you may as well be persuading the birds against flying, or striving to coax the stars out of the sky into your hat, as to be talking commonsense to them that’s fairly bothered and bursting with love. There’s nothing like it. The toothache and colic together would compose you better for an argument; it leaves you fitted for nothing but nonsense. It’s stronger than whiskey, for one good drop of it will leave you drunk for a year, and sick, begorra, for ten; it’s stronger than the sea, for it will carry you around the world, and never let you sink in sunshine or in storm; and, begorra, it’s stronger than Death himself, for it is not afeared of him, but dares him in every shape. But lovers do have their quarrels sometimes; and, begorra, when they do, you’d almost think they hated one another like man and wife.
By Rich Lindbloom
The passage on love I’ve recorded for your enlightenment can be found in an excellent book entitled “A Treasury of Irish Folklore,” by Padraic Colum. Obviously the passage is a reflection on love; what better time to share this than in the amorous high tides of spring. However, one can substitute in place of the word love just about anything we become passionate about in life. For the sake of clarity in this article though, substitute the word hockey for love-as in “he was really stupid with hockey.”