Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these She a window flower And he a winter breeze.

The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.

The only way out is through.

I'm not a teacher, but an awakener.

Yes, and even for the past...that it will turn out to have been all right for what it was. Something I can accept. Mistakes made by the self I had to be or was not able to be.

The best way out is always through.

Affection is an overpowering craving to be compellingly sought.