Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until >>
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage. >>
I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slav >>
Yet each man kills the thing he loves from all let this be heard some >>
We love because it's the only true adventure. >>
He who is not impatient is not in love. >>
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing.