I imagine a line a white line painted on the sand and on the ocean from me to you.

Every widow wakes one morning perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving to realize she slept a good nights sleep and will be able to eat breakfast and doesnt hear her husbands ghost all the time but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildrens will be. But we learn to live in that love.

You are the only one who has understood even a whisper of me and I will tell you that I am the only person who has understood even a whisper of you.

The more you love someone he came to think the harder it is to tell them. It surprised him that strangers didnt stop each other on the street to say I love you.

If there is no love in the world we will make a new world and we will give it walls and we will furnish it with soft red interiors from the inside out and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jewellers felt so that we should never hear it. Love me because love doesnt exist and I have tried everything that does.