Strangers are just family you have yet to come to know.
She loved me coming and going, at my worst and at my best. She had a bottomless well of love for me.
How do people choose their final words? Do they realize their gravity? Are they fated to be wise?
A heart weighs more when it splits in two; it crashes in the chest like a broken plane.
Something is always happening somewhere.
I thought about all the people I knew who spent many of their waking hours feeling sorry for themselves. How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. Just a few tearful minutes, then on with the day.