“When you look into your mother’s eyes, you know that is the purest love you can find on this earth.”

You have to start over. That’s what they say. But life is not a board game, and losing a loved one is never really “starting over.” More like “continuing without.

People are only mean when they are threatened.

There is no such thing as ‘too late’ in life.

We are too involved in materialistic things, and they don’t satisfy us. The loving relationships we have, the universe around us, we take these things for granted.

Anger is a poison. It eats us inside. We think when we hate someone we hurt them, but hatred is a curved blade, and the harm we do to others we also do to ourselves.

What you have done to this point cannot be undone. What you do next. It is still unwritten.

The universe is too grand and harmonious to believe it’s all an accident.

Fear is how you lose your life…a little bit at a time…What we give to fear, we take away from…faith.

Love wins, love always wins.

I thought about the days i had handed over to a bottle the nights i can’t remember the mornings I slept thru all the time spent running from myself.

Knowing something and understanding it were not the same thing.

You know what really offers you satisfaction? Offering others what you have to give.

Have you found someone to share your heart with? Are you giving to your community? Are you at peace with yourself? Are you trying to be as human as you can be?

Accept what you are able to do and what you are not able to do. Accept the past as past, without denying it or discarding it. Learn to forgive yourself and to forgive others. Don’t assume that it’s too late to get involved.

Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say.

Holding on to things only breaks your heart.

We colour and mould according to the wants within us whatever our eyes bring in.

I always make sure my lashes look cute.

Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical.

It was terribly beautiful to Tess today, for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the sweet birds sing.

So much is said with the electricity of the eyes, the intensity of a whisper. Less is more.

The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye but found by the heart.

The Wings of all kinds of Insects, are, for the most part, very beautiful Objects, and afford no less pleasing an Object to the mind to speculate upon, then to the eye to behold.”

They won’t listen. Do you know why? Because they have certain fixed notions about the past. Any change would be blasphemy in their eyes, even if it were the truth. They don’t want the truth; they want their traditions.