We are what we are, neither a good or as bad as others paint us. And what we are doesn't change how truly we feel, only how free we are to follow those feelings.

[Keenan] 'What am I going to do?' He sank to the floor. [Donia] 'Hope that some of us are kinder to you than you've been to us,' she whispered. Then, before she could soften again, she walked away and left the Summer King kneeling in her foyer.

Pride goeth before the fall....but you've already fallen, haven't you?

Sleep well, and stay where I put you.

Then he kissed her, not just a brush of lips as she'd done, but a kiss a kiss that scalded her tongue. The tree burst into full blooms. The garden fluttered around her. A riot of flowers shot out of the earth. She was mud-covered as he pulled back.

You're an idiot," she whispered tearfully. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her; by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms. For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, "Are you dead too?

Sometimes love means letting go when you want to hold on tighter.