When he went blundering back to God, His songs half written, his work half done, Who knows what paths his bruised feet trod, What hills of peace or pain he won? I hope God smiled and took his hand, And said, "Poor truant, passionate fool! Life’s book is hard to understand: Why couldst thou not remain at school?" A poem by Charles Hanson Towne

No story sits by itself, Sometimes stories meet at corners and sometimes they cover one another completely, like stones beneath a river.

There's a story behind everything..but behind all your stories is always your mother's story..because hers is where yours begins.

Sometimes, when you are not getting the love you want, giving makes you think you will.

Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that, with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine?

You may not have known the reason at the time, and that is what heaven is for. For understanding your life on earth.

And in that line now was a whiskered old man, with a linen cap and a crooked nose, who waited in a place called the Stardust Band Shell to share his part of the secret of heaven: that each affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.