And if we never visit Paris, that's okay. Your heart is my exotic destination every day.

Your transformation will begin the moment you stop worrying for someone rise to rescue you.

We're all in the human race. The question is, are you running toward your dreams or just away from your fears?

She was a tragic beauty. Sadness had left its fingerprints all over her face.

Birthing is never easy or without pain, be it a universe, a child, or a fresh start in life. Contraction precedes expansion. Darkness comes before dawn. Joy follows pain. This is the way of things.

Opening to love will always involve risk, but a heart safe from pain is one also locked to joy.

Sadness is a bruise on the skin of memory.

When sorrow's cup is filled up to the brim, the slightest touch of memory can cause tears to spill again.

Strangely incurious, her lovers from before. She has worlds within I'm longing to explore.

She had a very inconvenient heart. It always insisted on feeling things ever so deeply.

She thirsted for love, but found only a mirage. Some hearts are a desert you can die wandering in.

When storms come, we naturally want to run. What might happen in your friendships if you learned instead to stay put when storms hit?

I like your glasses, ” he said. “I like your Simon Snow T-shirts. I like that you don’t smile at everyone, because then, when you smile at me... Cather.

Our eyelashes brushed like they would weave together by themselves, turning us into one wild thing. I say, “I think I missed you before I met you even.

Christians can trust God to redeem even the greatest of tragedies and the most desperate of situations.

People do not cooperate under the division of labor because they love or should love one another. They cooperate because this best serves their own interests.

We think and name in one world, we live and feel in another.

The perverse presumption that places the burden of proof on the challenger of spending must be inverted, back to the rule that applies elsewhere in life: 'Prove to me why we should.

We don't use the term 'working class' here because it's a taboo term. You're supposed to say 'middle class,' because it helps diminish the understanding that there's a class war going on.

How then, is it natural that the mind of man, being so small as contained in such narrow spaces as a brain or a heart, should have room for all the vastness of sky and Universe?

What matters is who we are, not who we beat.