From that day on, for me and Ruth, it wasn't exactly happily ever after, but it was pretty close. We focused on celebrating all the wonderful things we had, rather than regretting the things we didn't. every anniversary, we would drive to Black Mountain. I still wrote Ruth letters, even though I saw her every day. So many wonderful years, but, of course, not nearly enough. The paintings Ruth and I had collected only served as a reminder of what I had lost. So I packed them away.
I am an ordinary man who fell in love with an extraordinary woman. Around this room you will see some beautiful and priceless works of art. Ruth had an incredible eyes for talent, while I only had eyes for her. For me, the great joy of collecting wasn't in the art itself, but in the person I collected it with, my loved Ruth. The happiness these paintings brought her was immeasurable, and sharing that happiness was the great privilege of my life. We celebrated, we achieved, we endured, we comprised, and above all, we loved. The true work of art was the longest ride Ruth and I shared. This thing called life.
View more about The Longest Ride reviews
