Kisses open doors, I've noticed. That one gesture can unlock secrets, ease open feelings. It can't be prevented--these kisses just are. It's how they work. They break into basements you never knew you had.

There are moments. You will know them.

But maybe the best thing I learnt was this: that we cannot know a person's soul and nature until we've sat beside them, and talked.

We carry on. We have ourselves and we carry on- in spite of our losses and mistakes and women, I think, have more than most. We are good secret-keepers. We can tie weights to out guilt and passions, and hatred and deceitfulness, and let them sink down, so that you'd never know they existed at all. But we know. I can count all mine.

Imagine it. Use all your strength and imagine it exactly. And it will happen that way.

Love is blind, they say--but isn't it more that love makes us see too much? Isn't it more that love floods our brain with sights and sounds, so that everything looks bigger, brighter, more lovely than ever before?

I believe the world is as we choose to view it. Simple as that. Our happiness is, in the end, up to us, and to no one else.