“I confess this is an unforeseen -- unforeseen and, indeed, I did not foresee it -- by-product of journaling: in writing down the facts of one's feelings, one might leave out facts, and one might also try to convince oneself that one's fantasy is, in fact, one's fact, or at least a fact among other facts, other facts that are, in fact, facts, making it most difficult to tell the fact from the fantasy.”
“This is very domestic of you," he said. "It's kinda hot, really. Giving me all sorts of fantasies about you in an apron vacuuming my house.”
“Take it, and turn to facts my fantasies.”
“Did the destruction of one dream leave a vacuum that required filling with another? Is a broken heart more vulnerable?”
“Where both reason and experience fall short, there occurs a vacuum that can be filled by faith.”