Suddenly it all seemed luminously clear. Love had very little to do with fear and emotional sabotage; love had to do with trust.

Maybe that's what happens with age, I thought. All your life you force yourself to forget people who have hurt you, but as you get older and weaker their memory surfaces again, like a bubble in the water. You have to surrender, because you feel to tired to fight it and push it down again. And maybe, unexpectedly, you find out that instead, of revamping your anger, those memories produce an unexpected sweetness.

Love sometimes makes people ruthless in a way that not even hatred can.

It's not easy to give up something you've had all your life.

Suddenly it all seemed luminously clear. Love had very little to do with fear and emotional sabotage; love had to do with trust.

We knew nothing of loss. Nobody has taught us about pain. Until that moment, death had just amounted to a scary sound.

When people die and especially when they die tragically, others can't help but get carried away. They come up with their implausible interpretation and usually resort to cheap psychology. A sense of fatalism is the only form of relief left.