She had made him possible. In that sense she was his god. Like God, she was neglected.

Every journey conceals another journey within its lines: the path not taken and the forgotten angle.

She hated being a nobody and like all children, adopted or not, I have had to live out some of her unlived life. We do that for our parents - we don't really have any choice.

Quoting her mother: The trouble with a book is you never know what's in it until it's too late!

As people get older they have these rigid patterns that they impose on themselves, and it kills them. They become dull, they become dead to new experience, they become afraid, biased, and bigoted. It's really simply to do with refusing new experience.

As your lover describes you, so you are.

One room is always enough for one person. Two rooms is not enough for two people. That is one of the conundrums in life.