How disturbing it is that our illusions are often our most important beliefs.

If jealousy was the vindaloo of love, I'd imagined her tongue burning, and such a fire forcing her to spill her truth.

I am determined to live without illusions. I want to look at reality straight. Without hiding.

You don't stop loving someone just because you hate them.

Falling in love was simple; one had only to yield. Digesting another person, however, and sustaining love, was bloody work, and not a soft job.

If you want something badly enough, you make arrangements. If you don't want it badly enough, you make excuses.

Without love, most of life remains concealed. Nothing is as fascinating as love, unfortunately.