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Love
Begins at 40, cont'd |
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It
is perhaps because of his peculiar ability to project across the screen
the more profound significances of love -- the sort of love that glows
and warms as opposed to the more explosive passion that detonates, throws
off a glittering shower of sparks -- and dies -- that Charles Boyer
has been able to entrench himself so impregnably in the hearts of women.
One expects, naturally, then, that Boyer has developed some very definite ideas of his own on the topic of love. One is not disappointed. |
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| "Tell
me," I said to him, "what is the difference between love at
twenty, at thirty, and at forty?" "Understand," he replied quickly, "that in answering I speak only for myself. Or, let us say, in generalities. Love at twenty? If it is the real thing it is the greatest thrill life has to offer. And it may well grow into the steadier, more serene and sure emotion that is part of every lasting love. "At thirty? The thrill is still there but with it there is the satisfying sense of working toward something for someone else, for the essence of love is still sacrifice, a truth that the old-time sentimental novelists understood. And mature men have a need to care for, to protect those they love. "At forty? Love then becomes a combination of these things with something more added. Now love is approaching its time of fulfillment -- for the major concern of love and its greatest recompense is the succeeding generation." "Suppose a man is happily married at thirty," I queried. "How does his love change at forty?" continue |
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