Oh, I have loved him too much to feel no hate for him.
Sometimes not seeing things can be a blessing.
When I free my body from its clothes, from all their buttons, belts, and laces, it seems to me that my soul takes a deeper, freer breath.
No matter how far we travel, the memories will follow in the baggage car.
I love her and she loves me, and we hate each other with a wild hatred born of love.
That is the thankless position of the father in the family-the provider for all, and the enemy of all.