The Question, Love, Is Whether You Want

If I Were An Opera Singer, I"d Have Sung You An Aria. If I Were An Artist, I Would Have Painted Your Portrait. But Cooking Is What I'm Best At.

I Had Learned That There Were Substitutes For A Mother Who Couldn't Be A Mother. You Could Find Love With Other People. You Could Find It In Places You Weren't Even Looking. But The Original Wound Would Never Heal. I Would Carry It With Me Forever, And So Would Tara. That Was The Trick . . . Accepting It, Going On With Your Life, Knowing It Was Part Of You.

You're Surrounded By It Wherever You Go, You Walk Through It, Breathe It...it's In Your Lungs And Under Your Tongue And Between Your Fingers And Toes.

There Isn’t Going To Be A ‘next Lover,’” Grant Said Automatically, Outraged By The Idea. “i’m The Only Man She’s Going To Have.

Sometimes A Simple Question Could Have A Complicated Answer.