Love, In Short Is The Most Dangerous

Love, How Often That Word Came Up In Books Over And Over Again. If You Had Wealth And Health, And Beauty And Talent...you Had Nothing If You Didn't Have Love. Love Changed All That Was Ordinary Into Something Giddy, Powerful, Drunken, Enchanted.

I Never Realized That The Blue Sky I Saw Was Not The Soft, Nurturing Sky Of Spring, But The Cold, Chilling, Lonely Sky Of Winter

A Flower Blooms Best In A Happy Pot.

After It's All Over, The Early Childhood, A Chain Of Birthdays Woven With Candlelight, Piles Of Presents, Voices Of Relatives Singing And Praising Your Promise And Future, After The Years Of Schooling, Fitting Yourself Into Different Size Desks, Memorizing, Reciting, Reporting, And Performing For Jury After Jury Of Teachers, Counselors, And Administrators, You Still Feel Inadequate, Alone, Vulnerable, And Naked In A World That Can Be Unforgiving And Terribly Demanding.

At The End Of The Rainbow Waited The Pot Of Gold. But Rainbows Were Made Of Faint And Fragile Gossamer-and Gold Weighed A Ton-and Since The World Began, Gold Was The Reason To Do Most Anything.