No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.

Even when you feel you've reached the end or edge of life, hold on. Life itself will ultimately take care of you.

The gifts that one receives for giving are so immeasurable that it is almost an injustice to accept them.

I've come to terms with it, it knows I know.

Extending your hand is extending yourself.

I cannot speculate on what our cluttered mind will save- sleepy Sundays, or a nosebleed after love. I know only the dying heart needs the nourishment of memory to live beyond too many winters.

Strangers are just friends waiting to happen