We take care of those who we love.
Sometimes ... that those should be ourselves, lest we forget.
But it always crept onto my lap again, clutched at my clothes. Until I thought, if I could kiss it, whatever in it was my own, perhaps I could sleep. And I bent to its broken face, and it was horrible...but I kissed it. I think one must finally take one's life in one's arms ... and kiss it
Arthur Miller
