hurts exactly as much as it is worth, so in a way one relishes the pain, I think.” The second part of that sentence was what I stubbed my foot against: it struck me as unnecessarily masochistic. Now I know that it contains truth. And if the pain is not exactly relished, it no longer seems futile. Pain shows that you have not forgotten; pain enhances the flavour of memory; pain is a proof of love. “If it didn’t matter, it wouldn’t matter.”
