With brothers you become friends. Some you hang out with more than others. You talk to one about the other a little more. You get mad at them. Then, you love them. Then, you apologize. You have to apologize whether you want to or not. You have to. That's your brother.
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.