Everyone Dies. It Is How One Lives

I Don't Have To Prove My Worth And Value To Any But Those I Love, And That I Do By Being Who I Am, With Confidence That Those I Love Appreciate The Good And Accept The Bad. Does Anything Else Really Matter?

Definitely They Write Themselves. It's An Amazing Experience. It's Like The Characters Have Come Alive And Are Sitting On My Shoulder Talking To Me, Telling Me Their Tales.

We Need To Be Reminded Sometimes That A Sunrise Last But A Few Minutes. But Its Beauty Can Burn In Our Hearts Eternally.

But Love, Honest Love, Requires Empathy. It Is A Sharing—of Joy, Of Pain, Of Laughter, And Of Tears. Honest Love Makes One’s Soul A Reflection Of The Partner’s Moods. And As A Room Seems Larger When It Is Lined With Mirrors, So Do The Joys Become Amplified. And As The Individual Items Within The Mirrored Room Seem Less Acute, So Does Pain Diminish And Fade, Stretched Thin By The Sharing. That Is The Beauty Of Love, Whether In Passion Or Friendship. A Sharing That Multiplies The Joys And Thins The Pains.

The Gods Of The Realms Are Many And Varied -- Or They Are The Many And Varied Names And Identities Tagged Onto The Same Being. I Know Not -- And Care Not -- Which.