What we were

Perhaps, after all romance did not come to one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; Perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; Perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; Perhaps...Perhaps... Love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden- hearted rose slipping from its green sheath. -"Anne of Avonlea"

Those were the best 6 months of my life too.

- Live like there's no tomorrow. Love like it's your last.