So often the pain of our life is no more than a reminder to take our hand off the stove.

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

It was the first time that I had ever been romantically kissed. It was even better than the chocolate cake.

There are people I've yet to meet who are waiting for my path to intersect with theirs, so they can complete their own journeys. I don't know who or where they are, but I know for certain that they are waiting.

There are far too many people for us to think about each of them during our short stay on earth—like the thousands of books in a library we haven’t time to read in an afternoon. But this is no excuse to cease browsing. For every now and then, we find that one book that reaches us deep inside and introduces us to ourselves. And, in someone else’s story, we come to understand our own.

We plan our lives in long, unbroken stretches that intersect our dreams the way highways connect the city dots on a road map. But in the end we learn that life is lived in the side roads, alleys, and detours.

From our first babblings to our last word, we make but one statement, and that is our life.