Читать книгу The boy with the sad eyes - Sam Chevalier - Страница 16

If I am sure of something, it is that magic lives in memory, sad as it may be.

And it’s ironic, we usually cry for happy memories. Some make us cry with joy, others open wounds that never heal, others teach us the way and others remind us of who we are so we can go on.

Sadness isn’t far behind; we learn the price of happiness by merely tripping and it tells us a thousand times where we don’t want to be again…

Cold is natural, powerlessness too, but if I’m sure of one thing is that love and despair go hand in hand, just like coffee and sugar, a pinch of one complements the other. And that is how we humans are; we mix with each other in search of that tasty touch that we call happiness.