In eighty-six years, child, I've learned the world is a far more mysterious place than most people realize and that every moment of life is woven through with meaning.
In the beginning was the word. Before all else, the word. So we speak as if words matter, because they do.
When I was a child, which was a shorter period of time for me than it was for most people, my mother sometimes implied that she might take me with her if she decided to consummate her romance with Death. My mother is beautiful, and to anyone who never lived with her, she seems to be a genteel and pleasant lady, if slightly aloof.
I've seen things that I don't understand but that nonetheless delight me.
We are in this boot camp to learn, that if we don't persevere through all this world's obstacles and all its wounds, we won't earn our next life of great adventure.
One of the greatest sorrows of human existence is that some people aren't happy merely to be alive but find their happiness only in the misery of others.