Wrong timing

As I feel, I am in the wrong lifetime with all meaning that comes with it...

The risks entailed in "modern" love are personal and individual, and so are its impediments.

Where lovers once battled against social norms, they now wrestle with each other's inner demons, which seem to be just as effective in keeping them apart.

Love seemingly can conquer all, except our own fears of intimacy.

This passion will be a lifetime of sorrow and yearning that is the inevitable reward of true love.

Happy love has no history. Romance only comes into existence where love is fatal, pursue of a forbidden love frowned upon and doomed by life itself.

Love is only as immense as the barriers that prevent its fulfillment: Unless the course of love is being hindered there is no 'romance;' and it is romance that we revel in -- that is to say, the self-consciousness, intensity, variations, and delays of passion -- not its sudden flaring.

Passionate love at once shared and fought against, anxious for a happiness it rejects, and magnified in its own disaster -- unhappy mutual love.

This is love as affliction, a madness that defies human reason and self-control -- misery in their own lives and those closest to them. It is as great a tragedy for their bewildered spouses tied to unhappy, distant strangers unable or unwilling to love them.

Our risk-averse generation enters into "relationships," and "takes things slowly" to "the next stage," as we work our way toward a "commitment."

As the risks of love have diminished so has our appetite for unreasoning passion.

"I wish I knew how to quit you" she says an older David, saddened by a passion that in twenty years has given her little more than fleeting moments of happiness over a near-lifetime of solitary yearning.