A wind blew, and the sand around his drawing scattered. He wrapped his fingers inside his wife's, and Father Time rekindled a connection he had only ever had with her. He surrendered to that sensation and felt the final drops of their lives touch one another, like water in a cave, top meets bottom, Heaven meets Earth. As their eyes closed, a different set of eyes opened, and they rose from the ground as a shared south, up and up, a sun and a moon in a single sky.

Being unheard is the ground floor of giving up, and giving up is the ground floor of doing yourself in. It’s not so much, what’s the point? It’s more like, what’s the difference?

I would lying if I said I would laugh in the face of death.

I still think there is a way to take all the mistakes that we've made as adults and put a little bit of a salve on them, a little bit of a fix on them, if we just are a little smarter in what we teach our kids.

A little girl came home from school with a drawing she'd made in class.She danced into the kitchen ,where her mother was preparing dinner. "Mom,guess what ?" she squealed waving the drawing . her mother never looked up. "what"? she said ,tending to the pots. "guess what?" the child repeated ,waving the drawings. "what?" the mother said , tending to the plates. "Mom, you're not listening" "sweetie,yes I am" "Mom" the child said "you're not listening with your EYES

And I suppose tapes are a desperate attempt to steal something from Death's suitcase.

Desire sets our compass, but real life steers our course.