We grow too old to lose old friends.

We grow too old to lose old friends.

Nothing erodes [a mother's love]. It is not sand on a beach. It is the nuclear heart of things-hard as the rock of this earth.

Here’s another change I’ve noticed: The dark is more than the sun dropping off, more than the moon and the stars. It’s what you can’t see that you hope you will see, what hasn’t been that might be.

You know how a river goes on and on? That's my love for you.

Nature is not the number-one mystery, I’ve learned. It’s the heart that takes top honors.

How do you know when an apology is true—when it means something, or can change something, or will last outside the moment?