One day, though, the look of a stranger nails you to te wall. A person lightly brushes you and unexpectedly, in a moment, you avert a sensation never felt before in all your life. A feeling that almost scares you, more powerful than your certainties and your values, the same ones you've sustained and for which you've always fought for.
Loving a lot or loving a little doesn't mean anything. You can only love or not love.
Women are like flowers: if you try to open them through strength, the petals remain in your hand and the flower dies. Because only warmth can open them. And love and tenderness together are the sun for a woman. I should've simply loved her. Then it would've been natural. Because a woman, when she feels loved, opens up and gives you her whole world.
In a true love story, the person whom you're with is the best looking-glass to see your flaws and your limits.
Maybe you must learn to be with people, and not expect a perfect fit.
Growing-up, instead, I'm always more convinced, and I don't know on what basis, that in life there is only one true love. That there is only one prince-charming for women and a princess for men. The kindered-spirit. And that all the others are just extras. I was happy thinking that I would've been the prince-charming to one woman in the world. Maybe a wanker for the rest of the female universe, maybe insignificant, ugly, not charming, that maybe with me Cinderella would've gone home at ten, quater-past max, Snow white after my kiss would've pretended to die again, but for someone... make way, I was prince-charming. The handsomest, the most charming, the most interesting. Isn't it wonderful knowing that for someone, a person of the world you are the "most"? Isn't it incredible? Doesn't it give you a stronger sense of responsability? I always liked this thing.
Sometimes I thought that maybe that difference of mine from others may have been caused by a structural error. I mean, maybe, we're really different inside. As perception. I made these imaginary trips thinking that maybe what I called green for them was yellow. That maybe the taste I felt in eating pasta they felt by eating fish. That's why someone likes something and someone else likes something else. Simply because people feel different flavours. Then, maybe when someone says, I like fish, and someone else says, I like pasta, in reality they're talking about the same flavour. Once I got lost thinking that nothing tasted of anything until there was some sort of contact. That an apple didn't have a flavour of any sort until it meets the mouth that's biting it. From the meeting between the apple and the mouth is born flavour and so everyone of us in our lives creates different flavours... Like smells that change with the different skins. Everything is neutral. You give flavour to things, meeting them.
In a lifetime you can meet loads of people and become really good friends of some of them. But who spent adolescence with you has an important place. Maybe even more than childhood comrades.
You're never ready enough for bad news and thinking about it is useless.
It took me a while to understand that it's more important for a woman to be happy than to be faithful. Because a happy woman doesn't betray you. A happy woman is always faithful. She doesn't need anything else. This also goes for men, but for them it's harder because they have to fight against the impulse of salvaging the species.