Suddenly, details seemed extremely important. Details were something to grab on to, a way to insert myself into the story.
The length of your days does not belong to you.
Heaven can be found in the most unlikely corners.
Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.
There is a time for hello and a time for good-bye. It's why the act of burying thing seems natural, but the act of digging them up does not.
Why are we embarassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?