When you enter a poem with your heart as well as your mind, a tremor of recognition will run through you. . . . This is never so true as with a poem whose subject is love. Because we knowwhat love is despite ourselves. We long for it, pray for it; we mourn its parting. . . . We are perhaps never so close than when we most poignantly feel its absence. Then, we may wonder whether love, after all, ever goes anywhere. Perhaps it is we who walk away.
— Roger Housden, Ten Poems To Open Your Heart