There's so much to be grateful for, words are poor things.
This is an interesting planet. It deserves all the attention you can give it.
Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life.
Love is holy because it is like grace--the worthiness of its object is never really what matters.
Memory can make a thing seem to have been much more than it was.
These people who can see right through you never quite do you justice, because they never give you credit for the effort you're making to be better than you actually are, which is difficult and well meant and deserving of some little notice.
Because, once alone, it is impossible to believe that one could ever have been otherwise. Loneliness is an absolute discover.