One eventually has enough even of oneself.
I seldom remember my father, but I sneeze and rub my nose the way he did. I also love my son with grief and anger, as he did.
Sometimes the given seems like something taken away.
You are as happy as you think you are, but not necessarily as miserable as you imagine.
No need to be sentimental to mourn the loss of Paradise.
Couples who come to understand one another often part.