I will never get hold you, kiss you or make love with you again. You’re marrying another. Your life will not be with me and your children will be with someone else.  It’s my own fault. I thought I loved someone else only to discover too late it was only you I loved all along. L.W.

…here she is,
all mine,
trying her best
to give me all she can.
How could I ever hurt her?
But I didn’t understand then.
That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover.
That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.
Haruki Murakami, “South of the Border, West of the Sun”