How do I love Thee? Let me count the ways.
This is one of the most beautiful lines ever when a beloved declares his/her love. I’m no poet, I’m not even an English major. But I’m a lover and I am loved. So how do I love you, Edmund Tay, Let me count the ways.
I love you cos you love God more. I can’t compete, I won’t compete. This alone assures me of your love for me.
I love you cos you don’t whisper sweet nothings to me, there’s no flowers, no balloons, no cards. It’s just not in you. You say, they are just words. You do it the practical way. Your love is demonstrated through time and action. And yes, you did it, through our dating years, from day one of marriage till now.
I love you each time you call me during the day, just to ask, what are you doing? I feel remembered and thought of. As much as I want to give a creative answer each time, it always comes back to “working lah”. Let me work on that!
I love you when I’m nice and warm in bed, while you have to tuck and pull at the sheets cos I somehow pulled everything over to my side.
I love you for enduring through countless romantic comedies with me. And to hear me gush at the gorgeous lead actor’s deep set eyes, or sweet little sacrifices. To sit through many with lousy plots and weak jokes. All these in return for you watching that macho award winning war movie alone.
I love you for loving me. Alas a woman is so hard to understand. I don’t even understand myself sometimes. But you keep trying. How not to love a honey bun like that?
I can go on and on. How do I love Thee? I love thee very very much, to have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and to obey. I love thee, till death do us part. No google help here… Love you baby!
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning