Twisting and turning beside the slumbering Tereza

He recalled something she had told him a long time before

In the course of an insignificant conversation

They had been talking about his friend, Z, when she announced, "If I hadn't met you, I'd certainly have fallen in love with him"

Even then, her words had left Tomas in a strange state of melancholy

And now he realized it was only a matter of chance that Tereza loved him and not his friend, Z

Apart from her consummated love for Tomas, there were, in the realm of possibility

An infinite number of unconsummated loves for other men

We all reject out of hand the idea that the love of our life may be something light or weightless

We presume our love is what must be

That without it, our life would no longer be the same

We feel Beethoven himself, gloomy and awe-inspiring, is playing to our own great love

Love, love, love, love

Love, love, love, love

Love, love, love, love

Love, love, love, love