“Looks of desire meant to be alluring, but look sad and searching.”

You hold a power only you have, that makes you extraordinary.

You are always hope- no matter what mood you’re in, you make us better.

Celebrate moments in each day like holidays with a party smile.

There is something vast in everything you’ll be, but not yet imagined.

The rain falls angry on you but can’t extinguish the light inside you.

You fill every part of my soul the way sunlight fills spaces of earth.

Energy reveals immediately how they really are inside.

Somehow you arrive right where life needs you to be, because you have faith.

Process attraction through the soul, so the body won’t be fooled by it.

Notice how you breathe can influence how you feel in any moment.

If they know your pain but ignore it, life’s saying- there’s healing elsewhere.

Stop for this moment – and allow yourself to live completely in it.

The comfort of home fills me when you take my hand- wherever we go.

True sacrifice will also be enlightening and therefore, healing.

Love may require letting go of everything to deepen our love.

Tastes and preferences change with time, But I fall in love with you daily.

The Christian conceives of his abode on Earth in no more delightful colors than the Jainist sectarian. He sees in it only a time of sad trial; he also thinks that his true country is not of this world.

The longer and more carefully we look at a funny story, the sadder it becomes.

Americans, in general, are ignorant, bigoted, and deeply unhappy with their declining incomes.

Sadness does not inhere in things; it does not reach us from the world and through mere contemplation of the world. It is a product of our own thought. We create it out of whole cloth.

There is a collective as well as an individual humor inclining peoples to sadness or cheerfulness, making them see things in bright or somber lights. In fact, only society can pass a collective opinion on the value of human life; for this the individual is incompetent.

That is sad until one recalls how many bad books the world may yet be spared because of the busyness of writers.

Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness.

Oh! The good times when we were so unhappy.