For some of us love comes into the room, kicks her shoes off, finds the most comfortable sofa, and lies down, rests, has no intention of going anywhere. For others love walks in smoking a cigarette, checking her watch every two seconds, jittery, with one hand on the doorknob, heart rate up, always in sprinter’s position, ready to run.

love is a mental illness, an obsessive-compulsive disorder romanticized!

jealously lives with insecurity!

early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable!

Once desire was turned on, combustion gave it a life of its own. Once it was turned on it became a raging wildfire, uncontrollable and uncontainable, the type of conflagration that had to be allowed to burn itself out.

the only perfect people are dead people, because their the only ones who can't make mistakes!

best way to deal with fear is to face the nightmare!