Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.

Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else.

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

Sharing tales of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them.

Don't let our outside labels or how fervent we look or zealous we are or how righteous we seem; that's not how you measure yourself against other people. Everyone is a child of God; if we really believed that, we'd treat each other better.

Secrets tear you apart.

Perdonare "Forgive Yourself)