Picture yourself five years from now. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there.

A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten . . .

There is something about her eyes. Eyes don't breathe. I know that much. But hers look breathless.

When your life has had few events to occupy it, it's amazing how a simple encounter can seem like an entire three-act play.

Father says it will come in time. “Time heals,” he says. I don’t tell him that I don’t know what time is.

But I am more than a name. More than they tell me

Words have longer lives than people.