You Don't Find Love, It Finds You.

You Live Out The Confusions Until They Become Clear.

We Are Like Sculptors, Constantly Carving Out Of Others The Image We Long For, Need, Love Or Desire, Often Against Reality, Against Their Benefit, And Always, In The End, A Disappointment, Because It Does Not Fit Them.

Create A World, Your World. Alone. Stand Alone. And Then Love Will Come To You, Then It Comes To You.

Everything But Happiness Is Neurosis.

What Is Love But Acceptance Of The Other, Whatever He Is.