Oranges are not the Only Fruit was a source of joy on one month’s Inter-rail. The book was passed around between us in carriages and acquired pizza stains and sand before we ever got to Sicilly. I had always thought Bronte could not be bettered for monumental passion but this declaration in Oranges rivals that of Cathy and Heathcliff. It is also quite clear about the dangers of accepting passion’s left overs and each time I read this, I always find it a tonic, and a powerful recommendation for self-belief!
I have also found it be true. Quite simply that. I do think people recognise and respond to the sense of something ‘real’ and authentically felt in others, and this reciprocity makes life more fully experienced.
‘I want someone who is fierce and will love me unto death and know that love is as strong as death, and be on my side for ever and ever…. There are many forms of love and affection, some people can spend their whole lives together without knowing each other’s names. naming is a difficult and time -consuming process; it concerns essences, and it means power. But on the wild nights who can call you home? Only the one who knows your name.’
