Old Friends Are Memories Personified.

. . .and Every Native Has A Story Of Winter – Stories That Usually Begin, You Call This A Storm? And Grow In The Telling Like Battle Tales Shared By Graying War Veterans. It’s A Peculiar Character Flaw To Those Of Us From Cold Climates That We Feel Superior To Those Who Have The Sense To Live Elsewhere.

Life Is Not A Sprint. It Was Never Meant To Be. It Is Just A Step Of Faith After Another.

It Is Often During The Worst Of Times That We See The Best Of Humanity–awakening Within The Most Ordinary Of Us That Which Is Most Sublime. I Do Not Believe That It Is Circumstance That Produces Such Greatness Any More Than It Is The Canvas That Makes The Artist. Adversity Merely Presents The Surface On Which We Render Our Souls’ Most Exacting Likeness. It Is In The Darkest Skies That Stars Are Best Seen.

But More Than Brave, You Have Love. And Love Is Brave.

There Are Far Too Many People For Us To Think About Each Of Them During Our Short Stay On Earth—like The Thousands Of Books In A Library We Haven’t Time To Read In An Afternoon. But This Is No Excuse To Cease Browsing. For Every Now And Then, We Find That One Book That Reaches Us Deep Inside And Introduces Us To Ourselves. And, In Someone Else’s Story, We Come To Understand Our Own.