They were now both ready, not to begin from scratch, but to continue with a love that had survived for thirteen years in hibernation. They were no longer travellers without baggage. They were no longer twenty. They'd both been around the block a bit and had suffered without the other. They'd both lost their way without the other. Each had tried to find love with other people. But all that was now finished.

so if you love him, why keep him waiting for 13 years?" "Because I was afraid. Afraid of not being worthy, afraid of not knowing how to love him, afraid of waking up one day and not loving him anymore.

Now he could say for sure that he'd never known a feeling stronger than that of being at one with another person - that rare feeling of not being alone anymore.

A miserable collection of little secrets, that's all any of us is.

When you decide to hit rock bottom, humiliation is part of the deal.

He was the sort of guy who took a lot without giving her anything back The more he hurt her the more desperately she loved him. Life's strange. Sometimes things happen almost as if we're punishing ourselves for some fault that we can't really identify.

Why was love such an addictive drug? Why did loving someone cause such suffering?