We are all in motion. Always. Those who are not climbing toward something are descending toward nothing.

Mr. Dallstrom is a bald, scarecrow of a man with a poochy stomache. Think of a pregnant Abraham Lincoln.

. . .and every native has a story of winter – stories that usually begin, You call this a storm? And grow in the telling like battle tales shared by graying war veterans. It’s a peculiar character flaw to those of us from cold climates that we feel superior to those who have the sense to live elsewhere.

Books are the most tolerant of friends.

such fickle days of love when pain and ecstasy share the same hour

Magna est veritas, et praevalebit: truth is mighty, and will prevail

I believe that love is the choice we make to raise ourselves and others to the highest planes of existence.