“I can see why she feels left behind. Maybe even discarded. Is that why she refuses to accept my love and return it? Afraid that love doesn't last? Doesn't really exist? Afraid if her own father can withdraw his love (or at least the manifestation of his love), that maybe she somehow isn't worthy of the emotion?”

“It will be a welcome change for her to feel his hands on her hips and his breath in her hair; She's been forlorn, but like all emotions, even loneliness doesn't last. She has fallen in love with the man with the quiet strength, the confident humility and the hands that show the flame of the heart.”

“I wonder why peopke are so afraid of love. Of different kinds of love. I just don't get it. Why aren't we afraid of racism" Of war? But love? It just doesn't make sense.”

“She's so in love with me, she doesn't know anything. That's why she's in love with me.”

“She was afraid to love me," Nancy said. "I never realized it. By keeping her distance, she thought she could protect me. If she didn't love me, maybe I would escape notice. I would survive.”

“When I talk about unrequited love, most of you probably think about romantic love, but there are many other kinds of love that are not adequately returned, if they are returned at all. An angry adolescent may not love her mother back as her mother loves her; an abusive father doesn't return the innocent open love of his young child. But grief is the ultimate unrequieted love. However hard and however long we love someone who has died, they can never love us back. At least that is how it feels...”