"When you love someone, you love the person as they are, and not as you'd like them to be."
"Morning or night, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, everything was the same: the gnawing, excruciating, incessant pain; that awareness of life irrevocably passing but not yet gone; that dreadful, loathsome death, the only reality, relentlessly closing in on him; and that same endless lie. What did days, weeks, or hours matter?"
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Source: Leo Tolstoy (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (Illustrated)”, p.2450, Delphi Classics
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