A Tree May Look As Beautiful As

Grief Is A Most Peculiar Thing; We’re So Helpless In The Face Of It. It’s Like A Window That Will Simply Open Of Its Own Accord. The Room Grows Cold, And We Can Do Nothing But Shiver. But It Opens A Little Less Each Time, And A Little Less; And One Day We Wonder What Has Become Of It.

Now I Know That Our World Is No More Permanent Than A Wave Rising On The Ocean. Whatever Our Struggles And Triumphs, However We May Suffer Them, All Too Soon They Bleed Into A Wash, Just Like Watery Ink On Paper.

Adversity Is Like A Strong Wind. I Don't Mean Just That It Holds Us Back From Places We Might Otherwise Go. It Also Tears Away From Us All But The Things That Cannot Be Torn, So That Afterward We See Ourselves As We Really Are.

If Those Sorts Of Moments Would Be The Only Pleasure Life Offered Me, I'd Be Better Off Shutting Out That One Brilliant Source Of Light To Let My Eyes Begin To Adjust To The Darkness.

From This Experience, I Understood The Danger Of Focusing Only On What Isn't There. What If I Came To The End Of My Life And Realized That I'd Spent Every Day Watching For A Man Who Would Never Come To Me? What An Unbearable Sorrow It Would Be, To Realize I'd Never Really Tasted The Things I'd Eaten, Or Seen The Places I'd Been, Because I'd Thought Of Nothing But The Chairman Even While My Life Was Drifting Away From Me. And Yet If I Drew My Thoughts Back From Him, What Life Would I Have? I Would Be Like A Dancer Who Had Practiced Since Childhood For A Performance She Would Never Give.