Everything I do or say will be forgotten in a few short years. Yet how amazing and wonderful it is that somehow I still care, just simply care about whatever I do, and will probably do so until my dying moment.

Before I can accept someone's help, I must accept their presence.

I'm afraid my glass is no longer half full because I drank most of it.

How often have I tried just hard enough so that I can then say to myself that I tried with the real purpose of assuaging my guilt about something I did not wish to succeed in the first place?

If there were no nobodies, The somebodies would not have anybody, To convince that they were somebody, Except some other somebody, Who would not be convinced anyway.

I see a good marriage as being like two tall trees growing beside each other, each nourishing the grace of the other.

How frustrating it is to be out-argued by someone you know is dead wrong but is more eloquent.