Autumn that year painted the countryside in vivid shades of scarlet, saffron and russet, and the days were clear and crisp under harvest skies.

…she remembered watching a summer sunset from this very spot. Not so long ago; just a lifetime.

We tend to forget at times that it is the little ones, the children, who do suffer the greatest hurt. If we cannot comprehend why certain sorrows are visited upon us, how on earth can they?

I’ll admit that my garden now grows hope in lavish profusion, leaving little room for anything else. I suppose it has squeezed out more practical plants like caution and common sense. Still, though, hope does not flourish in every garden, and I feel thankful it has taken root in mine.

I inhale hope with every breath I take.

Poor Wales. So far from Heaven, so close to England.

Forget the threat of Hell's infernal flames. The true torture would condemn a man to wait and wait and wait - for an eternity