When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.
LOVE, WHEN WE LOVED NOT ENOUGH
I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.
There is a woman at the beginning of all great things.
There is a woman at the beginning of all great things.
Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
