Too often in my life, love has been defined as "humiliation with occasional roses".

Beaches, music, and car rides—they could all bring on a sudden bout of deep, dreamy thoughts.

An untold story has a weight that can submerge you, sure as a sunken ship at the bottom of the ocean.

Hope could be the most powerful thing or the most useless.

But, dear God, don't listen to me. I'm an old lady in the middle of nowhere without a real toilet.

Bliss is the ocean, a towel on the sand, the sun out, the chance to swim in waves or walk dragging a stick behind you, a good book, a cold drink.

It made me wonder how many times we forgive just because we don't want to lose someone, even if they don't deserve our forgiveness.