A love story - your own, or anyone else's - is interior, hidden. It can never be accurately reported, only imagined. It is all dreams and invention. It's guesswork.

There is also something deeply lovely about uncertainty: the possibility of optimism.

And while some healing does happen, it isn't a healing of redemption or epiphany. It's more like the slow absorption of a bruise.

The word "miss" is so wistful. As is the word "wistful," for that matter. They both have sighs embedded in them, that "iss" sound. Which also sounds like if.

But who is ever able to apply to her own current love affair a word like "similar"?

Mythology was littered with people who meddled in the affairs of elves and fairies and were never again heard from.

High on a rocky promontory sat an Electric Monk on a bored horse.

Joy has come to live with me. How can I be sad? I do so love Thy presence, which is joy within me.

Whenever you feel like criticizing any one... just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.

If your addiction lingers, ask yourself if you really want to release it, because in your heart you do not.

I am not just what I remember. I am also what I dream.

Once the state is looked upon as the source of rights, rather than their bound protector, freedom becomes conditional on the pleasure of the state.

At sea let the British their neighbours defy — The French shall have frigates to traverse the sky.

Love people, not things; use things, not people.

The best things that have been written, almost, are by Catholics during the counter Reformation: Ignatius of Loyola, St. Francis de Sales, John of the Cross, St. Theresa of Бvila.....great stuff.