Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all.

Miracles happen quietly every day - in an operating room, on a stormy sea, in the sudden appearance of a road side stranger. They are rarely tallied. No one keeps score.

There are many things in my life that I wish I could take back. Many moments I would recast.

There is everything you know and there is everything that happens. When the two do not line up, you make a choice.

I often find that I rock back and forth with a beat in my head constantly. If i stop rocking, it usually means I've hit a snag in my writing.

It's such a shame to waste time. We always think we have so much of it.

No one gets left behind, remember?