History Dies Without The Present. There Is

He Thought: How Difficult It Is To Explain Yourself To Yourself. Sometimes There Only Is, And No Knowing.

All The Time I Think I Can Never Love You More Than I Already Do. And Then You Do Something Or Say Something, And I Love You More Than Ever. Like Just Now. Like Now. How Is It Possible? Can You Love Someone More And More And At The Same Time, All The Time, Love Them As Much As It's Possible To Love Someone?

I Huff And Puff And Struggle With Every Sentence, Paragraph And Page - Sometimes Every Word As Well.

Sometimes The Course Of Our Lives Depends On What We Do Or Don't Do In A Few Seconds, A Heartbeat, When We Either Seize The Opportunity, Or Just Miss It. Miss The Moment And You Never Get A Chance Again.

I Don't Actually Think “true Love” Is Such A Good Term Because Love Can Only Be True. If It Isn't True It Can't Be Love.