That's my sweetheart in there. Wherever she is, that's where my home is.

Constellations shine with light that was emitted aeons ago, and I wait for something to come to me, words that a poet might use to illuminate life's mysteries. But there is nothing.

She wanted something else, something different, something more. Passion and romance, perhaps, or maybe quiet conversations in candlelit rooms, or perhaps something as simple as not being second.

My mom used to tell me that whatever you do, marry someone who loves you more than you love him.

If you look for me, I'm in the fiction section. Romance has its own section.

Women had a tendency to see what they wanted to see i men, at least in the beginning

I got the sense that he was the kind of person who couldn't hold anger for more than a few minutes, because it just wasn't in him. It could never grow into resentment or bitterness, and I knew then that he was the kind of man who would be married forever. And I decided then and there that I should be the one to marry him.