Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition. -Alexander Smith.

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead

Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

That of all people, it should be him; that took her aback. That the heart should settle on somebody like him; that surprised her. But she was so certain about it, so certain.

The previously unloved may find it hard to believe that they are now loved; that is such a miracle, they feel; such a miracle.