Our Worst Pain Is Confined Within Our

I've Always Thought Harper Lee Might Have Made A Great Decision. Much As You'd Like To Have More Books By Her, There's Something About Just One That's Kind Of Mysterious And Nice. On The Other Hand, The New York Gossip About Me Was That I'd Never Write Another Book. So I Thought, 'well, I Will Then.

We Are Not Strong Enough To Stand Up Against Endless Grief, And Yet Pain Is The Constant Drone Of Life. So If We Are To Have Any Happiness At All, It Is Only In The Passing Instant.

Verbs. All Of Them Tiring.

But I Believe The Words Entered Me And Changed Me And Still Work In Me. The Words Eat Me And Sustain Me. And When I'm Dead And In A Box In The Dark Dark Ground, And All My Various Souls Have Died And I Am Nothing But Insensible Bones, Something In The Marrow Will Still Feel Yearning, Desire Persisting Beyond Flesh.

That's Just Pain She Said. It Goes Eventually. And When It's Gone, There's No Lasting Memory. Not The Worst Of It Anyway. It Fades. Our Minds Aren't Made To Hold On To The Particulars Of Pain The Way We Do Bliss. It's A Gift God Gives Us, A Sign Of His Care For Us.