There were certain moments upon which the whole of the future course of one's life might turn. And almost inevitably they popped out at one without any warning at all, leaving one with no time to consider or engage in a reasoned debate with oneself. One had to make a split second decision, and much depended upon it. Perhaps everything.
Mary BaloghStichwörter: future moments dependent
Could a love of that magnitude die? If it was true love, could it ever die? Was there such a thing as true love?
Mary BaloghLife was very sad if there were not - and unbearably so if one's experience with romantic love turned one into an incurable cynic.
Mary BaloghFalling in love was as much about receiving as it was giving, was it? It seemed selfish. It was not, though. It was the opposite. Keeping oneself from being loved was to refuse the ultimate gift.
He had thought himself done with romantic love. He had thought himself an incurable cynic.
He was not, though.
He was only someone whose heart and mind, and very soul, had been battered and bruised. It was still - and always - safe to give since there was a certain deal of control to be exerted over giving. Taking, or allowing oneself to receive, was an altogether more risky business.
For receiving meant opening up the heart again.
Perhaps to rejection.
Or disillusionment.
Or pain.
Or even heart break.
It was all terribly risky.
And all terribly necessary.
And of course, there was the whole issue of trust...
Stichwörter: pain heart trust break receive love-give
As he had once said to someone in England, though he did not care to remember whom, he had liked the sight of the sea because it represented his escape from England. And he had escaped.
But she had said that perhaps it was from himself he wished to escape and that it could not be done. For wherever he went, he must inevitably take himself along too.
One day you will learn that love does not always betray you.
Mary BaloghStichwörter: love learning betrayal
If there were no illusions, there would bo no disillusionment. But then one would have no fond memories either, with which fortify oneself against the pain of the reality.
Mary BaloghStichwörter: illiusio
The worst thing about loneliness is that it brings one face to face with oneself.
Mary BaloghStichwörter: loneliness
Would she be able to bear never seeing him again? Never in this life?
Mary BaloghI'm terrified that I will never be able to put him from my mind. I don't love him but I'm afraid that he will make it impossible for me ever to love anyone else.
Mary BaloghStichwörter: love importance afraud
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