Growing old is not a thing to watch. It cannot be forgiven in others. Alone, it can be borne. Even indulged.
Love, like alcoholism, comes to a point of no return.
Trauma reflected upon in tranquility can produce morally stunning insights - literary light! It can also produce maudlin rubbish.
Love is all there's time for.
Hope is a dream deferred.
it takes a lot of rehearsal to become yourself.