"But then of course it all went horribly wrong and I woke up and looked across the pillow at a woman (for she was) I didn't know. Her breasts--onto which I had cried tears of happiness when she'd whispered that she would always have looked after me--seemed the breasts of a stranger, of a girl in a magazine. And that was when I realized the moral of the story of that person: we have to look over ourselves. We can be supported and helped and cherished and all those other self-help book words, but really we have to look after ourselves. God, sounds a bit jaded, doesn't it? But that's what life has taught me. And I like it."