But you forget all that. Later on you efface those parts which were miserable, you preserve the beautiful moments. And not only do you preserve them, you go on decorating them, painting them, again and again. Slowly, slowly they have no relationship with the reality. Your past is fictitious, your future is fictitious; only your present is real. But you don’t live in the present at all; either you live in the past or you live in the future.

And why has this question arisen, Shraddhan? Misery must have started again! That’s why you are asking, “Is it possible?” You have done it, and you are asking me, “Is it possible?” You yourself cannot believe what you have done.

When people are together they want to be alone; when they are alone they want to be together. People are impossible!

Middle-aged Rizzoli sat on the front steps weeping bitterly.

“What’s-a matta for you?” asked his neighbor, Pasquale.

“Bonnaocchi’s wife-a just-a die,” said Rizzoli, wiping his tears.

“So what?” said his neighbor, “She was-a no blood-a relative of yours.”

“I know that,” said Rizzoli. “It is-a just-a that everybody seems-a to have-a good luck but-a me!”

When you are with someone, immediately a thousand and one problems arise which were not there before. When you are alone those problems disappear, but a new problem arises: the loneliness seems to be so empty. You feel at a loss, you don’t know what to do. Soon you start forgetting all the misery that was coming out of your relationship; you start hankering for another relationship. You think, “Maybe this time it is going to be different.” Maybe she has changed, maybe you have changed. Maybe both of you have learned from the experience.

Harry and his girl, Francesca, were on the couch watching an old Roy Rogers movie on TV. As Roy rode through a pass, Harry said, “I will bet you a screw his horse steps in a gopher hole and falls.”

“Okay,” said Francesca, “you’re on!”

Sure enough, the horse stumbled.

After the bet was paid in full Harry said, “I oughta tell you I saw the movie before. That’s how I knew.”

“So did I,” said the Italian girl, “but I didn’t think-a a horse-a be dumb-a enough to fall-a in the same hole twice-a!”

But man is more dumb.

Now make the best out of it. When you have fallen in the hole, try to make a home there! You are an American, and the only religion the American believes in is: Try and try and try again.

The second question: