Your Lips Are Like Sugar And Your

Love Is Not Breathlessness; It Is Not Excitement; It Is Not The Promulgation Of Promises Of Eternal Passion. That Is Just Being “in Love”, Which Any Of Us Can Convince Ourselves We Are. Love Itself Is What Is Left Over When Being In Love Has Burned Away, And This Is Both An Art And A Fortunate Accident.

The Trouble With Fulfilling Your Ambitions Is You Think You Will Be Transformed Into Some Sort Of Archangel And You're Not. You Still Have To Wash Your Socks.

I Know You Have Not Thought About It. Italians Always Act Without Thinking, It's The Glory And The Downfall Of Your Civilisation. A German Plans A Month In Advance What His Bowel Movements Will Be At Easter, And The British Plan Everything In Retrospect, So It Always Looks As Though Everything Occurred As They Intended. The French Plan Everything Whilst Appearing To Be Having A Party, And The Spanish...well, God Knows. Anyway, Pelagia Is Greek, That's My Point.

Love Itself Is What Is Left Over When Being "in Love" Has Burned Away, And This Is Both An Art And A Fortunate Accident.

In Reality The World Is As Full Of Bad Mothers As It Is Of Bad Fathers, And It Is Not The Motherless Children Who Become Delinquent But The Fatherless Ones.