There is no accounting for love.

We follow our instincts, I suppose.

But it leads us sometimes along paths that we could never bear to travel twice.

Is there any pain, I wonder, like the pain of disillusionment, of seeing the beloved idol lying in the dust?
This is a selfish point of view, I know; but I want you to realize that you have made a mistake.

Dear Piers, I am very, very sorry it has happened.