Seeing through is rarely seeing into

Seeing through is rarely seeing into.

Friendship is a difficult, dangerous job. It is also (though we rarely admit it) extremely exhausting.

To some people, the impossible is impossible. One fine day, they wake up in the morning knowing that they will never hold the moon in their hands, and with the certainty, perfect peace descends on them.

The only thing that matters is to have charm and expression. Then comes that horrible gnawing doubt of our own magnetism. Is it possible that, though we are not lovely, we are not irresistible either? That we will have to go through life belonging neither to the triumphantly beautiful nor to the triumphantly ugly?

Blessed are those who give without remembering and take without forgetting.