Once a child gets into your heart, there’s no right or wrong about it.
When he wakes sometimes from dark dreams of broken cradles, and compasses without bearings, he pushes the unease down, lets the daylight contradict it. And isolation lulls him with the music of the lie.
You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day.
Sometimes it's good to leave the past in the past.
History is that which is agreed upon by mutual consent.
Every end is the beginning of something else.