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Love for a lifetime

Yeah, I've been in love many times. I have been madly in love where it all worked out for a while. Occasionally, my love was unrequited; but all in all one factor has remained true â The relationships ended quickly. I've never really had a problem with me feeling it was going on too long. However, I could never accept the other version. I just simply couldn't understand how he could have gotten bored with me, left and basically treated me that way. Either I just stood and stared numb as he walked away, or I tried to get one last grip on him, leaving a pathetic slimy trail in my wake like a slug. As time went by, my feelings eased up a bit regarding the subject and, as I found my voice as a writer, my approach to relationships changed, but there is one painful issue that I've experienced myself many times and, as I look about me, I can see that most women have faced this very same question at one point or another. It goes like this: What on earth turned that fascinating, enchanting woman of his dreams, whom he'd rescue from the seven pits of hell, whom he'd do anything for, into someone who eventually ends up cheated and abandoned? And what can we do to avoid such situations in the future? The question does deserve a few words, doesn't it? /From my book Till Life do us Part/


If you want to know more about Agatha Seymour visit: agathaseymour.com

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When All Seems Lost — and Even When It Doesn’t…

When All Seems Lost — and Even When It Doesn’t… As a writer, I read more than average. Not necessarily books that fall within my immediate interests, but rather those I can learn from, marvel at, analyze word by word, and sometimes even those that demand more effort from me than usual. That is how it is with Alice Munro. I bought my first book by her when she received the Nobel Prize. Then life happened, and the volume sat on my bookshelf—either I had no time for it, or it lingered somewhere at the bottom of my list of priorities. When I finally picked it up, I could hardly believe my eyes—or my reaction. First, I was utterly outraged; my blood pressure shot through the roof in an instant, and I almost started swearing in disbelief. I had barely skimmed the first few lines, yet that was enough to know: it was perfect. A true masterpiece. Excellence among the excellent. Every word reached the deepest layers of my soul. I was touched by its purity, its delicacy, the noblest simpli...
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Evening thought

Now and then journalists in search of copy ask me what is the most thrilling moment of my life. If I were not ashamed to, I might answer that it is the moment when I began to read Goethe’s Faust. I have never quite lost this feeling, and even now the first pages of a book sometimes send the blood racing through my veins. To me reading is a rest as to other people conversation or a game of cards. It is more than that; it is a necessity, and if I am deprived of it for a little while I find myself as irritable as the addict deprived of his drug. I would sooner read a time-table or a catalogue than nothing at all. That is putting it too low. I have spent many delightful hours poring over the price-list of the Army and Navy Stores, the lists of second-hand took-sellers and the A.B.C. All these are redolent of romance. They are much more entertaining than half the novels that are written. /W.S.Maugham/
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