So until we meet again, I am thinking of you always; I love you; I wish you were here...in my arms.
Who cares? Kingdoms rise and fall. Just don't burn the paintings in the Louvre, that's all.
As if the night had said to me, ‘You are the night and the night alone understands you and enfolds you in its arms' One with the shadows. Without nightmare. An inexplicable peace.
Oh, but when love is reached through suffering, it has a power it can never gain through innocence.
St. Augustine wrote something once, something I think about often, he said. ‘God triumphs on the ruins of our plans.' And maybe that is what is happening here. We make blunders, we make mistakes, and somehow new doors open, new possibilities arise, opportunities of which we've never dreamed.