Why did people assume that the beautiful among them needed nothing but their beauty to bring them happiness? That behind the beauty there was nothing but an empty shell, insensitive shell?

I can be hurt, she said, only by people I respect.

Love did not have to make sense. It did not have to be worthy. It did not have to be earned. It did not have to woo. It just simply was.

The bad part is life continues. The good part is that the pain goes away.

Every moment is a moment of decision, and every moment turns us inexorably in the direction of the rest of our lives.

Why did people assume that the beautiful among them needed nothing but their beauty to bring them happiness? That behind the beauty there was nothing but an empty shell, insensitive shell?

Sometimes even the imagination lets one down.