The only things I regret, and the only things I'll ever regret are things I didn't do In the end, that's what we mourn The paths we didn't take The people we didn't touch It was only vanity and discouragement that sometimes made me feel alone with my endless love but now that I was taking one of the risks my heart had urged upon me I could also feel I was not alone If endless love was a dream then it was a dream we all shared even more than we all shared the dream of never dying or of traveling through time and if anything set me apart it was not my impulses but my stubbornness my willingness to take the dream past what had been agreed upon as the reasonable limits to declare that this dream was not a feverish trick of the mind but was an actuality at least as real as that other, thinner more unhappy illusion we call normal life After all, the intimations of endless love were the same now as they were thousands of y...
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