Life Is Not Like A Novel, But

She Was--i Keep Using The Past Tense; I Ought To Say She Is--one Of Those People Who, At First Sight, Look Plain, Are Quiet, Unassertive, Unmemorable Even. But Who, When They Start To Talk And You Get To Know Them, Become More And More Attractive And Impressive, And You See That In Fact They Are Beautiful. Not Conventionally Beautiful, Not Celebrity Beautiful, But Beautiful All Through.

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?

Self Pity Is A Disease Which Does Not Kill But Corrodes.

We Resent Being Faced With Facts We'd Prefer To Ignore As Much As Being Wrongly Accused Of Doing Something We Haven't.

Rooms Are A Fixed Size, Which Can't Be Altered Without Pulling Down Walls And Building New Ones. They Should Be Unchanging In Shape And Proportions. But Sometimes They Do Change Depending On Who's In Them.