Without Science, There Would Be No Such

Love Has, At Its Best, Made The Inherent Sadness Of Life Bearable, And Its Beauty Manifest.

I Was Late To Understand That Chaos And Intensity Are No Subsitute For Lasting Love, Nor Are They Necessarily An Improvement On Real Life. Normal People Are Not Always Boring. On The Contrary. Volatility And Passion, Although Often More Romantic And Enticing, Are Not Intrinsically Preferable To A Steadiness Of Experience And Feeling About Another Person.

I Think That When You're Depressed, You Can't Concentrate Long Enough And Well Enough To Read For The Most Part; Some People Can, But By And Large People - That's One Of The First Things That Goes, Is The Capacity To Read Meaningful Literature. With Grief, That's Not True. For A While You Can't Read, But Then You Really Are Amenable To Solace.

The Rites Of Passage In The Academic World Are Arcane And, In Their Own Way, Highly Romantic, And The Tensions And Unplesantries Of Dissertations And Final Oral Examinations Are Quickly Forgotten In The Wonderful Moment Of The Sherry Afterward, Admission Into A Very Old Club, Parties Of Celebration, Doctoral Gowns, Academic Rituals, And Hearing For The First Time "dr.," Rather Than "miss" Jamison.

No Amount Of Love Can Cure Madness Or Unblacken One's Dark Moods. Love Can Help, It Can Make The Pain More Tolerable, But, Always, One Is Beholden To Medication That May Or May Not Always Work And May Or May Not Be Bearable