What kind of fool am I?
I never fell in love.

 

What kind of fool am I?
I never fell in love.
--
Song What kind of fool am I?

 

Lesley Bricusse

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I didn't go into this marriage with the idea of just trying it out. I fell in love and wanted to make a new life with him. A lot of people said to me, "How could you go out with someone with his past?" But I've always believed that everyone deserves a second chance. I fell in love with who he was when I met him: a strong man who could admit his weaknesses and work through them.

 

Denise Richards

 

'What do you mean by "a man like me"?' he [Philip Trent] demanded with a sort of fierceness. 'Do you take me for a man without any normal instincts? I don't say you impress people as a simple, transparent sort of character — what Mr Calvin Bunner calls a case of openwork; I don't say a stranger might not think you capable of wickedness, if there was good evidence for it: but I say that a man who, after seeing you and being in your atmosphere, could associate you with the kind of abomination I imagined is a fool — the kind of fool who is afraid to trust his senses.'

 

Edmund Clerihew Bentley

 

I’m looking forward to the peace of mind to just write... Songwriting is something that I just fell into. I never expected to love it. But I’ve always had to kind of treat it like a hobby. Now it’s going to feel so good to know that I can just sit down and write.

 

Scott Clifton

 

I was so sentimental about you I'd break any one's heart for you. My, I was a damned fool. I broke my own heart, too. It's broken and gone. Everything I believe in and everything I cared about I left for you because you were so wonderful and you loved me so much that love was all that mattered. Love was the greatest thing, wasn't it? Love was what we had that no one else had or could ever have? And you were a genius and I was your whole life. I was your partner and your little black flower. Slop. Love is just another dirty lie. ... Love is that dirty aborting horror that you took me to. Love is my insides all messed up. ... To hell with love. Love is you making me happy and then going off to sleep with your mouth open while I lie awake all night afraid to say my prayers even because I know I have no right to any more. Love is all the dirty little tricks you taught me that you probably got out of some book. All right. I'm through with you and I'm through with love.

 

Ernest Hemingway

 

Recollections fell from me in flakes, in scales. All that remained of me was all that remains of anyone: a kind of iridescence. There was a fear that I would never again feel substantial, a fear that I would be a kind of psychic amputee. (p120)

 

Antonella Gambotto-Burke