She sometimes thought she was going crazy. Her first thought when she woke up was always how to get him out of her thoughts. And she would keep watch, hoping to see him next door, while plotting ways to never have to see him again.

How can we know the true meaning of charity if we don't even know how to help those closest to us?

But relying on one person for your every need is so dangerous. One set of hands isn't enough to keep you from falling.

She was so Southern that she cried tears that came straight from the Mississippi, and she always smelled faintly of cottonwood and peaches.

Nothing is really broke, so it's not like I can fix it. I just have to keep trying to find what I'm looking for.

Superstitions are man's way of trying to control things he has no control over.

How could someone with a life this full feel this empty?