I can't look at everything hard enough!

The knowledge that she would never be loved in return acted upon her ideas as a tide acts upon cliffs.

We do not choose the day of our birth nor may we choose the day of our death, yet choice is the sovereign faculty of the mind.

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.

And we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead,

Many who have spent a lifetime in it can tell us less of love than the child that lost a dog yesterday.