Poets knew that isolation in nature, far from people and things man-made, was good for the soul, and he'd always identified with poets.

She was my dream. She made me who I am, and holding her in my arms was more natural to me than my own heartbeat. I think about her all the time. Even now, when I'm sitting here, I think about her. There could never have been another.

Eventually I came across another passage. This is what it said: I am not commanding you, but I want to treat the sincerity of your love by comparing it to the earnestness of others. The words made me choke up again, and just as I was about to cry, the meaning of it suddenly became clear. God had finally answered me, and I suddenly knew what I had to do.

I'm writing a new love story, set in eastern North Carolina. Surprise, surprise, huh?

but she realized that she wanted him to know her. She wanted him to understand her, if only because she had strange sense that he was the kind of man she could fall in love with, even if she didn't want to.

They wouldn't understand, and I don't feel the need to explain, simply because I know in my heart how real it was. When I think of you, I can't help smiling, knowing that you've completed me somehow. I love you, not just for now, but for always, and I dream of the day that you'll take me in your arms again

What mattered most was knowing that love was mine to give, without strings or expectations.