It was easy to idealize someone you barely knew.

Real people had real agendas, real demands, real expectations about how other people should behave.

He was the toast to her butter.

We fell in love despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created.

The search for God's presence was much of a mystery as God himself, and what was God if not a mystery?

The mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us.

He'd lived long enough to know that everyone handled grief in different ways, and little by little, they all seemed to accept their new lives.