Perhaps we were each allotted only a certain amount of love - enough for only an initial meeting - a serendipitous clumsiness. When it leaves to find others, the difficulty begins because we are faced with our humanness, our past, our very being.

Death is the most sophisticated form of beauty, and the most difficult to accept.

I wanted to explain that trusting is harder than being trusted.

We touched with a softness that pushed through the skin into memory, like arms plunged into a river - we could feel the weight of each other's stones.

You were unsure which pain is worse -- the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will.

Life just swallows you up, doesn't it?Just swallows you up with its everyday things

When somebody leaves this plane—or, if you like, goes into another room—those left behind sometimes try and stop loving—but this is a mistake, because even if you have loved only once in your life, you’re ruined.