I feel helpless, hopeless, too low to call out, too weak to think. Impotent tears dribble down.

I feel helpless, hopeless, too low to call out, too weak to think. Impotent tears dribble down.

It's not what happens to us that defines us. It's what we choose to do with what happens to us that defines us.

April 19 And now it is spring. Birds are singing. Wistful notes and jubilant. And bare streets and no need for coats, and skipping ropes and bicycles and a thin new moon.

Sleep tries to seduce me by promising a more reasonable tomorrow.

Life is a journey for us all. We all face trials. We all have ups and downs. All of us are human. But we are also the masters of our fate. We are the ones who decide how we are going to react to life.

What you forget is that plants themselves want to live as much as you want them to. More.