Friends tell me to move on, but they don’t understand the depth of feeling in my heart for you. Digging that love out of me is like trying to shovel quicksand. With every attempt more falls back in than I can dig out and I get pulled deeper into the quagmire. T.G.

You say that love is nonsense.
I tell you it is no such thing.
For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain,
an ache about the heart, never leaving one,
by night or by day; a long strain on one’s nerves
like toothache or rheumatism,
not intolerable at any one instant,
but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.
Henry Brooks Adams