You'll stop hurting when you stop hoping.

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

In years past, to keep their men close, women would wear a ring and bear children. It doesn't work like that today. Nowadays, how do we hold on to those we love? I've no idea.

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.

It's scary being loved. Because life is complicated and all too often it throws you off balance by sending you the right person at the wrong time.

On calm days, you always think you've conquered them. You think that in the end you've finally done them in. That you've got rid of them for good, now and forever. But that seldom happens. Most of the time, the demons are still there, lurking somewhere in the shadows. Tirelessly waiting for the moment when our guard drops. And when love goes away.

When it comes to books and friends, it is best to have only a few but all good ones.