Love Is A Temporary Madness. It Erupts

The Garden Where You Sit Has Never A Need Of Flowers, For You Are The Blossoms And Only A Fool Or The Blind Would Fail To Know It

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.

History Is The Propaganda Of The Victors.

An Adversarial Family Law System Raises The Stakes Unnecessarily High, Exacerbates The Antagonism Of The Couples Concerned, And Is Directly Responsible For Making It Impossible For Couples Who Would Otherwise Have Reconciled To Do So.

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.