Is life a course or a curse, a path or a pathology? Is living a blessing or a lessening, a miracle or a mirage? Is it a kiss or a miss, a tender touch or simply a come-on? The opposite of love is not hate, but uncaring, simply not feeling. Are all illnesses psychosomatic, a disguised, silent way that we take out our unconscious anger against ourselves? Love both clarifies and resolves these ambiguities, seeking always the better over the worse. Life can mean love, but too often means meanness.