Remember me for these days, not the old ones.

You're not a wave, you're a part of the ocean.

She felt worthless and hollow. There was no hope of fixing this. And when hope is gone, time is punishment.

You're not going to fix things by helping 65-year-olds or 75-year-olds for any long run.

I hope you never hear those words. Your mom. She died. They are different than other words. They are too big to fit in your ears. They belong to some strange, heavy, powerful language that pounds away at the side of your head, a wrecking ball coming at you again and again, until finally, the words crack a hole large enough to fit inside your brain. And in so doing, they split you apart.

We all have same beginning (BIRTH), and we will have same ending (DEATH). So how different can we be?

The most important elements of faith [are] believing in something bigger than yourself, taking care of those less fortunate than you.