I even love the smell of books.

I look at my roommates who are so proud of me that it makes me proud.

Isn't this the truth of any good mother? That in all of our lives. We worry only about those we brought into this world, regardless of whether they loved us back or treated us fairly or understood our shortcomings.

When people are filled to the brim with love, they are their most beautiful.

I even love the smell of books.

I will probably always cry myself to sleep, but knowing this, someday the tears won't be sad, or filled with regret. Maybe they will be joyful

Our faces will become works of art that our grandchildren will treasure.