There could have been a little faith. A little faith in who I am, a little faith in what I can be - will be.
We learn, slowly it seems, what truly matters. Too often we don't see it at the same time. We stand in our own way, don't we? We hold our very selves too close and in so doing we choke others - and our . . . selves.
There could have been a little courage. God knows, my faults require it - wretch that I am. Wretch that I am. It was written by Hugo the greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
But we are people, not options. We are not a choice, but the sum of a thousand choices. We are constantly made and unmade and if it is by another - is that not love?