You solve it as you get older, when you reach the point where you've tasted so much that you can somehow sacrifice certain things more easily, and you have a more tolerant view of things like possessiveness (your own) and a broader acceptance of the pains and the losses.

If you accept others as equals, you embrace them unconditionally, now and forever. But if you let them know that you tolerate them, you suggest in the same breath that they are actually an inconvenience, like a nagging pain or an unpleasant odour you are willing to disregard.

Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ‘not knowing.

'Age' is the acceptance of a term of years. But maturity is the glory of years.

Perhaps we should acknowledge where others come from, as it might just be where we are headed.

Getting older is hard.