Only Those Who Never Step, Never Stumble.

We Plan Our Lives In Long, Unbroken Stretches That Intersect Our Dreams The Way Highways Connect The City Dots On A Road Map. But In The End We Learn That Life Is Lived In The Side Roads, Alleys, And Detours.

Suffering Ceases To Be Suffering When We Form A Clear Picture Of It.

The Smells Of Christmas Are The Smells Of Childhood [p. 53]

Only Those Who Never Step, Never Stumble.

Dance. Dance For The Joy And Breath Of Childhood. Dance For All Children, Including That Child Who Is Still Somewhere Entombed Beneath The Responsibility And Skepticism Of Adulthood. Embrace The Moment Before It Escapes From Our Grasp. For The Only Promise Of Childhood, Of Any Childhood, Is That It Will Someday End. And In The End, We Must Ask Ourselves What We Have Given Our Children To Take Its Place. And Is It Enough?