Philip K. Dick dedicates The Man in the High Castle to his wife and son, “with great and awful love”.
Have you ever felt within you this oxymoron, this passion of the Dark Lords, this Darcy-like terrible love? Almost masochistic in its need to annex every emotion to its fold.
Of course, think Insufferable Roadside Romeo a la Aamir Khan in Dil and you think “great and awful love” also, but I talk here about the kind that suddenly turns its face the other way, facing something not yet seen or borne.
Once is enough. The memory of that once makes you deeper and wiser for life.