He doesn't understand I want the freedom to make my own mistakes. - Jeanette Winterson

My passion for her, even though she could never return it, showed me the difference between inventing a lover and falling in love. The one is about you, the other about someone else.

You say we are not one, you say truly there are two of us. Yes, there were two of us, but we were one. As for myself, I am splintered by great waves. I am coloured glass from a church window long since shattered. I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.

It is easy to be selfish. It is hard to love who I am. No wonder I am surprised if you do. (p. 199)