If You Make Your Heart Into A

The Most Precious Gift You Can Bring To Your Lover Is Your Suffering.

Fate Gives All Of Us Three Teachers, Three Friends, Three Enemies, And Three Great Loves In Our Lives. But These Twelve Are Always Disguised, And We Can Never Know Which One Is Which Until We’ve Loved Them, Left Them, Or Fought Them.

Nothing Ever Fits The Palm So Perfectly, Or Feels So Right, Or Inspires So Much Protective Instinct As The Hand Of A Child

Sooner Or Later, Fate Puts Us Together With All The People, One By One, Who Show Us What We Could, And Shouldn’t, Let Ourselves Become. Sooner Or Later We Meet The Drunkard, The Waster, The Betrayer, The Ruthless Mind, And The Hate-filled Heart. But Fate Loads The Dice, Of Course, Because We Usually Find Ourselves Loving Or Pitying Almost All Of Those People. And It’s Impossible To Despise Someone You Honestly Pity, And To Shun Someone You Truly Love.

The Truth Is That The Man I Am Was Born In Those Moments, As I Stood Near The Flood Sticks With My Face Lifted To The Chrismal Rain. Shantaram. The Better Man That, Slowly, And Much Too Late, I Began To Be.