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True love stories never have endings.

People come, people go - theyll drift in and out of your life, almost like characters in a favorite book. When you finally close the cover, the characters have told their story and you start up again with another book, complete with new characters and adventures. Then you find yourself focusing on the new ones, not the ones from the past.

Then I realize what it is. It's him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.

One of the advantages of being disorganized is that one is always having surprising discoveries.

Art and love are the same thing: Its the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.