It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom.

Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.

Every piece of fruit tells a story—of the land, the labor, and the love that went into growing it.