Trust and love aren't mutually exclusive. If one doesn't exsist, the other is practically meaningless.

To the domesticated, nomads were an unwelcome reminder of instinct suppressed, liberty compromised, and control unimplemented.

I did not want to think so much about her. I wanted to take her as an unexpected, delightful gift, that had come and would go again — nothing more. I meant not to give room to the thought that it could ever be more. I knew too well that all love has the desire for eternity and that therein lies its eternal torment. Nothing lasts. Nothing.

The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither was capable now of betraying the other.

Written By Paulo Coelho

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