The earth is what we all have in common.

Some nights in the midst of this loneliness I swung among the scattered stars at the end of the thin thread of faith alone.

New grief, when it came, you could feel filling the air. It took up all the room there was. The place itself, the whole place, became a reminder of the absence of the hurt or the dead or the missing one. I don't believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and griever alike endure.

Young lovers see a vision of the world redeemed by love. That is the truest thing they ever see, for without it life is death.

Don't own so much clutter that you will be relieved to see your house catch fire.

What can't be helped must be endured.

The soil under the grass is dreaming of a young forest, and under the pavement the soil is dreaming of grass.