Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop
Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there.
