In love there are two things - bodies and words.

In love there are two things - bodies and words

Love commingled with hate is more powerful than love. Or hate.

Love is an indescribable sensation - perhaps a conviction, a sense of certitude.

But he doesn't love her. I invented that. It is a plot if you imagine people in love--the lazy looping criss crosses of love, blows, stares, tears. No. It doesn't happen. No love. People meet, touch, stare into one another's faces, shake their heads clear, move on, forget. It doesn't happen.

I should say, one of the things about being a widow or a widower, you really, really need a sense of humor, because everything's going to fall apart.