Anyone who is desperate or alone will agree there is comfort in routine.

The present grows within the boundaries of the past.

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

Whether you know it or not, we leave parts of ourselves wherever we go.

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.

Reading reassures us that no matter how alone we might feel, there are many others - spread as wide as history itself - who have felt the same way we have, who have occupied the rooms we find ourselves locked in at various points of our lives.

But say you do find the right people - how do you love them without smothering them?...How do you not suffocate them with all the love you've built up in their absence?