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  3. The great enemy of friendship turned out to be love.
    The great enemy of happiness turned out to be truth.

     
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  5. How long your closet held a whiff of you,
    Long after hangers hung austere and bare.
    I would walk in and suddenly the true
    Sharp sweet sweat scent controlled the air
    And life was in that small still living breath.
    Where are you? since so much of you is here,
    Your unique odour quite ignoring death.
    My hands reach out to touch, to hold what’s dear
    And vital in my longing empty arms.
    But other clothes fill up the space, your space,
    And scent on scent send out strange false alarms.
    Not of your odour there is not a trace.
    But something unexpected still breaks through
    The goneness to the presentness of you.
    — Madeleine L’Engle
     
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  9. Self soothing.

     
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