I do not know if you remember the tale of the girl who saves the ship under mutiny by sitting on the powder barrel with her lighted torch and all the time knowing that it is empty? This has seemed to me a charming image of the women of my time. There they were, keeping the world in order by sitting on the mystery of life, and knowing themselves that there was no mystery.
All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story or tell a story about them.
Love won't be tampered with, love won't go away. Push it to one side and it creeps to the other.