Everytime i have turned the page he re-enters my life as awkward as postscript

Each day has a color, a smell.

A problem becomes a problem only if you believe it to be so. And often others see you as you see yourself.

Or perhaps it is just that desire lies at the heart of human existence. When we turn away from one desire, we must find another to cleave to with all our strength --or else we die.

Sometimes -- she knows this from her own life -- to get to the other side, you must travel through grief. No detours are possible.

Often, others see you, as you see yourself

The heart itself is beyond control. That is its power, and its weakness.