Become a better person and be sure to know who you are, before meeting someone new and hoping that person knows who you are

and it was always without pretensions of loving or being loved although always in the hope of finding something that resembled love but without the problems of love.

She was a ghost in a strange house that overnight had become immense and solitary and through which she wandered without purpose, asking herself in anguish which one of them was deader: the man who had died or the woman he had left behind.

One can be in love with several people at the same time, feel the sorrow with each, and not betray any of them.

She would defend herself, saying that love, no matter what else it might be, was a natural talent. She would say: You are either born knowing how, or you never know.

She searched the truth with an anguish almost as great as her terrible fear of finding it .

She had the revelation one Sunday that while the other instruments played for everyone the violen played for her alone .