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10/6/2015 11:40:11 PM
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What is love?
Biologically, love is a powerful neurological condition like hunger or thirst, only more permanent. We talk about love being blind or unconditional, in the sense that we have no control over it. But then, that is not so surprising since love is basically chemistry. While lust is a temporary passionate sexual desire involving the increased release of chemicals such as testosterone and oestrogen, in true love, or attachment and bonding, the brain can release a whole set of chemicals: pheromones, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin and vasopressin. However, from an evolutionary perspective, love can be viewed as a survival tool – a mechanism we have evolved to promote long-term relationships, mutual defence and parental support of children and to promote feelings of safety and security.
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3 回复由TheRealNeal99编辑： 10/8/2015 11:20:59 PM
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1 回复由MicroChango编辑： 10/9/2015 1:19:36 AM
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2 回复When Vex Mythoclast drops for you for the first time. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG
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3 回复Some say love, it is a river That drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor That leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love, it is a hunger, An endless aching need. I say love, it is a flower, And you its only seed. It's the heart afraid of breaking That never learns to dance. It's the dream afraid of waking That never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken, Who cannot seem to give, And the soul afraid of dyin' That never learns to live. When the night has been too lonely And the road has been too long, And you think that love is only For the lucky and the strong, Just remember in the winter Far beneath the bitter snows Lies the seed that with the sun's love In the spring becomes the rose.
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1 回复由xnunez28编辑： 10/8/2015 2:51:07 AM
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2 回复由YourMomentOfZen编辑： 10/8/2015 1:29:27 AMLove is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone. It well may be that in a difficult hour, Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, Or nagged by want past resolution's power, I might be driven to sell your love for peace, Or trade the memory of this night for food. It well may be. I do not think I would. [spoiler]50 points to whomever can name the poem and the poet.[/spoiler]
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1 回复Ok. Now this evolution crap is getting out of hand. I don't see how people still believe it.
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