The reason we start things is rarely the reason we continue them.

I am a believer in angels, though not the picture-book kind with wings and harps. Such angelic accoutrements seem as nonsensical to me as devils sporting horns and carrying pitchforks. To me, angel wings are merely symbolic of their role as divine messengers.

Sometimes our arms are so full with the burdens we carry that it hinders our view of the load those around us are staggering beneath.

There are people who come into our lives as welcome as a cool breeze in summer- and last about as long.

We are chained to that which we do not forgive

The truest grace is not to forgive, but to have never found fault.

Dwelling on him would make him a bigger part of my life than I want him to be.