It Is Not Love That Is Blind,

Perhaps Our Only Sickness Is To Desire A Truth Which We Cannot Bear Rather Than To Rest Content With The Fictions We Manufacture Out Of Each Other.

Love Is Like Trench Warfare - You Cannot See The Enemy, But You Know He Is There And That It Is Wiser To Keep Your Head Down.

Now Stiff On A Pillar With A Phallic Air Nelson Stylites In Trafalgar Square Reminds The British What Once They Were.

The Loved Object Is Simply One That Has Shared An Experience At The Same Moment Of Time, Narcissistically; And The Desire To Be Near The Beloved Object Is At First Not Due To The Idea Of Possessing It, But Simply To Let The Two Experiences Compare Themselves, Like Reflections In Different Mirrors. All This May Precede The First Look, Kiss, Or Touch; Precede Ambition, Pride, Or Envy; Precede The First Declarations Which Mark The Turning Point—for From Here Love Degenerates Into Habit, Possession, And Back To Loneliness.

Odd, Isn't It? He Really Was The Right Man For Her In A Sort Of Way; But Then As You Know, It Is A Law Of Love That The So-called 'right' Person Always Comes To Soon Or Too Late.