She was in a terrible marriage and she couldn't talk to anyone. He used to hit her, and in the beginning she told him that if it ever happened again, she would leave him. He swore that it wouldn't and she believed him. But it only got worse after that, like when his dinner was cold, or when she mentioned that she'd visited with one of the neighbors who was walking by with his dog. She just chatted with him, but that night, her husband threw her into a mirror.

Comfort and familiarity were wonderful but they also dulled passion and excitement. Predictability and habit made surprises almost impossible.

When people cared about each other, they always found a way to make it work.

Marriage is about compromise; it's about doing something for the other person, even when you don't want to.

Making love, she'd always believed, was more than simply a pleasurable act between two people. It encompassed all that a couple was supposed to share: trust & commitement, hopes & dreams, a promise to make it through whatever the future might bring. The greater the love; the greater the tragedy when it is over

When I was seventeen, I don't think I even knew what love was. But when it's right, it's right, and you just know it.

The key to happiness was achievable dreams.