My playing had called to another human being at last. Surely, she could be no other than my own true love. Slowly, I got to my feet. Speak to me, I thought. And as if she'd heard me, the young woman's lips parted and she spoke thus: Have you lost your mind?

I think the worst part is that when you know you dream another person's dream, you can never truly feel at peace. Never truly trust yourself. If you carry around somebody else's nightmare, who knows what else your insides might hide or when it might come out?

For in hope's absence, a miracle arrived

What do you know about yourself? What are your stories? The ones you tell yourself, and the ones told by others. All of us begin somewhere. Though I suppose the truth is that we begin more than once; we begin many times. Over and over, we start our own tales, compose our own stories, whether our lives are short or long. Until at last all our beginnings come down to just one end, and the tale of who we are is done.

My playing had called to another human being at last. Surely, she could be no other than my own true love. Slowly, I got to my feet. Speak to me, I thought. And as if she'd heard me, the young woman's lips parted and she spoke thus: Have you lost your mind?

If you have to ask, you've never been in love. More than that, you've never had your feelings hurt by the one you want to trust and cherish you most of all.

True love comes when it will, not when it's called.