There Are A Thousand Thousand Reasons To

Every Single One Of Us Is A Little Civilization Built On The Ruins Of Any Number Of Preceding Civilizations, But With Our Own Variant Notions Of What Is Beautiful And What Is Acceptable - Which, I Haste To Add, We Generally Do Not Satisfy And By Which We Struggle To Live.

... But It's Your Existence I Love You For, Mainly. Existence Seems To Me Now The Most Remarkable Thing That Could Ever Be Imagined.

I Don't Know Exactly What Covetous Is, But In My Experience It Is Not So Much Desiring Someone Else's Virtue Or Happiness As Rejecting It, Taking Offense At The Beauty Of It.

Memory Can Make A Thing Seem To Have Been Much More Than It Was.

Fiction That Does Not Acknowledge This At Least Tacitly Is Not True.