Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.

When he went blundering back to God, His songs half written, his work half done, Who knows what paths his bruised feet trod, What hills of peace or pain he won? I hope God smiled and took his hand, And said, "Poor truant, passionate fool! Life’s book is hard to understand: Why couldst thou not remain at school?" A poem by Charles Hanson Towne

I seem to have very few casual readers, only passionate and appreciative ones.

With endless time, nothing is special. With no loss or sacrifice, we can’t appreciate what we have

Are you seeing anyone romantically?" he inquired. "No, I'm not," she replied. "Good. Please keep it that way. Because I intend to ask you to marry me.

How could he find perfection in such an average day? Then I realized this was the whole point.

Sometimes, kids want you to hurt the way they hurt.