Every farewell combines loss and new freedom.
At the end of every diet, the path curves back to the trough.
Looking backward at what has been lost, I feel sad, then indifferent, and at last relieved.
Sometimes the given seems like something taken away.
Attachments and bereavements are inseparable.
Progress may feel more like loss than gain.
My love grows wide and shallow in an effort to spread my losses.
No need to be sentimental to mourn the loss of Paradise.
