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

If you have always suspected your sister of an inclination to madness, it will be my pleasure to confirm your worst fears.

My happiness has to come from within myself or it is too fragile a thing to be of any use to me and too much of a burden to benefit any of my loved ones.

But parents, she supposed, were not the pinnacle of perfection their children thought or expected them to be. They were humans who usually did the best they could but often made the wrong choices.

Tears never were worth the effort of crying them.

Sometimes now was enough. Sometimes it was everything.

And he knew at that moment that love world never die, that it would never fade away altogether. The time might come when he would meet and marry someone else. He might even be reasonably happy. But there would always be a deep precious place in his heart that belonged to his first real love.