A great deal of love given to a few is better than a little to many.

I love whom I love

:::and those you love

I find as I grow older, I love those most, whom I loved first.

I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me — they, and the love and loyaty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.

Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can: all of them make me laugh.

To the loves of my life: Laura, Barbara, and Jenna

Celebrate those who have loved us into being

I still miss those I loved who are no longer with me but I find I am grateful for having loved them. The gratitude has finally conquered the loss.

And, – mark, – I do care so satisfactorily for the few people that matter to me. (For Virginia? Oh dear me YES, for Virginia.)

There are so few people given us to love. I want to tell my daughters this, that each time you fall in love it is important, even at nineteen. Especially at nineteen. And if you can, at nineteen, count the people you love on one hand, you will not, at forty, have run out of fingers on the other. There are so few people given us to love and they all stick.

My greatest strength is the love for my people, my greatest weakness is that I love them too much.

In the end, all that really matters — all you really have — is the people you love. Not your job, not your career, not your awards, not your money, not your stuff. Just your people.

I must have loved you a lot.