But there are times when a tree can no longer withstand the pain inflicted on it, and the wind will take pity on that tree and topple it over in a mighty storm. All the other trees who witnessed the evil look down upon the fallen tree with envy. They pray for the day when a wind will end their suffering. I pray for the day when God will end mine.

I write because the lives of all of us are stories. If enough of those stories are told, then perhaps we will begin to see that our lives are the same story. The differences are merely in the details.

Freeform radio is an art form. The airwaves are the empty canvas, the producer is the artist, and the sound is the paint.

...part of the mind's job was to cast doubt on what the heart knew to be true, and the heart, because it had no words, often lost the argument

Goodness was not a trait you acquired; it was a value you practiced when you were on the verge of doing evil.

How can I love you if I don't know what hurts you?

I'm tired of thinking and I'm really tired of Feeling. —Jenna Richards