Being an outsider is the one thing we all have in common.

Being human means losing everything we love best in the world," she murmured as she released me. "But would you ask to be anything else?

But what we are given is taken as well, so that we know God's glory comes to us from His will alone.

The grass he walked through was new and a sweet smell clung to his clothes. There was blue dye on his hands from the wild irises... that the color of the sky was a shade that could never be replicated in any photograph, just as Heaven could never be seen from the confines of Earth.

I wept to think that life went on even when so much had been lost, that rain still fell and myrtle grew between the rocks.

Love was like that, like a dream you didn't quite understand, one in which you didn't necessarily know what you were looking at until it was right in front of you.

My theory is that everyone at one time or another has been at the fringe of society in some way: an outcast in high school, a stranger in a foreign country, the best at something, the worst at something, the one who's different. Being an outsider is the one thing we all have in common.