There was something in her movements that made you think she never walked but always danced.

You have the itch for writing born in you. It's quite incurable. What are you going to do with it?

All that Ruby said was so horribly true, she was leaving everything she cared for. She had laid up her treasures on earth only. She had lived solely for the little things of life, the things that pass, forgetting the great things that go onward into eternity bridging the gulf between the two lives and making of death a mere passing of one dwelling to the other. From twilight to unclouded day. ...it was no wonder her soul clung in blind helplessness to the only things she knew and loved.

But the worst of imagining things is that the time comes when you have to stop and that hurts.

A good laugh is as good as a prayer sometimes.

it doesn't take long to stay an hour.

Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.