“Love love love. Find me one single person who’s been happy long enough to be worth talking about, happy in love, I mean, that fake nest lined with steel wool they call love. Not very likely. If there is such a person, they must be blind, blinded by their terror of being alone, so blind they can’t see the blood pouring from their gaping wounds."
- Monique Proulx. The Heart is an Involuntary Muscle. translated by David Homel and Fred A. Reed. Douglas & McIntyre Ltd, 2003. pg 73
What a cynical way to look at love. I don't agree with this speaker's quote at all. I truly believe that I can find that kind of love that she seems to think does not exist.
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