Black is the absence of all color. White is the presence of all colors. I suppose life must be one or the other. On the whole, though, I think I would prefer color to its absence. But then black does add depth and texture to color. Perhaps certain shades of gray are necessary to a complete palette. Even unrelieved black. Ah, a deep philosophical question. Is black necessary to life, even a happy life? Could we ever be happy if we did not at least occasionally experience misery?

I do beg you to have some regard for my pride. A million years? I assure you I would stop asking after the first thousand.

Sometimes even the imagination lets one down.

Suddenly, and for the first time, he was at the center of his own life, living it and loving it.

Sometimes it just seems that love is not enough, does it?

Nothing is permanently perfect. But there are perfect moments and the will to choose what will bring about more perfect moments.

But the things is, you see, that two people can never actually become one no matter how close they are. And it would not be desirable even if it were possible. What would happen when one of them died? It would leave the other as a half a person, and that would be a dreadful thing. We must each be a whole person and therefore we each need some privacy to be alone with ourselves and our own feelings.