The Dangers of Love

There is no promise of hope that everything will work out in the end, no words of succor or justification that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, and no heroic poem such as Homer might have sung before a prescient chorus.

There is only a haphazard chronicling of the chimerical forms love has taken and the wounds it has inflicted on us again and again. The reader may recognize the face of a loved one in one of love's innumerable forms or wince at a familiar pain from one of the wounds inflicted on him or her by love.