Accidents ambush the unsuspecting often violently just like love.

Long distance is hard. You have to trust that as you each change on your own your relationship will also change along with you. It takes hope good humor and idealism. It takes a massive dose of courage to protect the relationship at all odds. It is hard but worth it. Youll both be stronger as a result.

We are the ones who take this thing called music and line it up with this thing called time. We are the ticking we are the pulsing we are underneath every part of this moment. And by making the moment our own we are rendering it timeless. There is no audience. There are no instruments. There are only bodies and thoughts and murmurs and looks. Its the concert rush to end all concert rushes because this is what matters. When the heart races this is what its racing towards.

I dont want to make love last I want to make love second to last. The last thing well do is cuddle.

He came up and kissed me on my forehead and before he stepped away I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment. I wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then how his arms looked brown against his white shirt the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise there because of me.Then he was gone.Just for that moment the thought that I might never see him again it felt worse than death. I wanted torun after him. Tell him anything everything. Just dont go. Please just never go. Please just always be near me so I can at least see you.Because it felt final. I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. That no matter what we would be connectedby our history by this house. But this time this last time it felt final. Like I would never see him again or that when I did it would be different there would be a mountain between us.I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved which I expected. What I didnt expect was to feel so much grief.Bye bye Birdie.

This is part of what a family is about not just love. Its knowing that your family will be there watching out for you. Nothing else will give you that. Not money. Not fame. Not work.

And I still love you in my own fucked-up way. I miss you I really do. Can we still be friends

Celia wait Marco says standing but not moving closer to her. You are breaking my heart. You told me once that I reminded you of your father. That you never wanted to suffer the way your mother did for him but you are doing exactly that to me. You keep leaving me. You leave me longing for you again and again when I would give anything for you to stay and it is killing me. It has to kill one of us Celia says quietly.

Productiveness is your acceptance of morality your recognition of the fact that you choose to live--that productive work is the process by which mans consciousness controls his existence a constant process of acquiring knowledge and shaping matter to fit ones purpose of translating an idea into physical form of remaking the earth in the image of ones values--that all work is creative work if done by a thinking mind and no work is creative if done by a blank who repeats in uncritical stupor a routine he has learned from others--that your work is yours to choose and the choice is as wide as your mind that nothing more is possible to you and nothing less is human--that to cheat your way into a job bigger than your mind can handle is to become a fear-corroded ape on borrowed motions and borrowed time and to settle down into a job that requires less than your minds full capacity is to cut your motor and sentence yourself to another kind of motion decay--that your work is the process of achieving your values and to lose your ambition for values is to lose your ambition to live--that your body is a machine but your mind is its driver and you must drive as far as your mind will take you with achievement as the goal of your road--that the man who has no purpose is a machine that coasts downhill at the mercy of any boulder to crash in the first chance ditch that the man who stifles his mind is a stalled machine slowly going to rust that the man who lets a leader prescribe his course is a wreck being towed to the scrap heap and the man who makes another man his goal is a hitchhiker no driver should ever pick up--that your work is the purpose of your life and you must speed past any killer who assumes the right to stop you that any value you might find outside your work any other loyalty or love can be only travelers you choose to share your journey and must be travelers going on their own power in the same direction.

Love is a possible strength in an actual weakness.