Love was holding someone's hand when you wanted to escape.

Plaudite, amici, comedia finita est.

(Applaud, my friends, the comedy is over.)

[Said on his deathbed]

For as long as it takes for the sorrow and pain to transfer into acceptance. I’ll stay here. With you. By your side. I won’t leave.”

“Promise?”

“Vow.” I placed his hands gently on the piano. “I vow.

Love is a debt, she thought. When the bill comes, you pay in grief.

Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching the crowds for your face - I know it's an impossibility, but I cannot help myself.

Love is an engraved invitation to grief.