Tell me that you refuse to allow me to be so stupid. Tell me that you will not tolerate this relationship being over just when it was on the verge of really taking off.

That's the beauty about love. It's not about give-and-take - it's about feeling safe in one's needs - wanting to be looked after as much as wanting to look after.

It's not a persons mistakes which define them - it's the way they make amends.

She liked him. She liked the feeling of liking him. She felt light and smiley and too full of excitement to think of anything else.

Tell me that you refuse to allow me to be so stupid. Tell me that you will not tolerate this relationship being over just when it was on the verge of really taking off.

His version of 'real' love isn't sufficient for me, I don't think anyone should settle for so little. It wasn't love - not in the true sense. On my part, it was neediness, insecurity, dependence, habit - desperate to feel loved by a man who was often ambivalent towards me.

She didn't want to be reminded of her past or how different her present was from the future she'd taken for granted.