Sometimes, Questions Are More Hurtful Than Insults.

No Matter How Smart She Appeared, She Was Fragile At Her Core.

At That Moment I Felt Lonelier Than I'd Ever Felt Before, And That Loneliness Seemed To Squat In My Lungs And Crush All But My Most Minimal Breathing. There Was Nothing Left To Say. Not About This. Not About Anything.

Sometimes When You Sacrifice Something Precious, You're Not Really Losing It. You're Just Passing It On To Someone Else.

One Withers, Another Grows.

When He Went Blundering Back To God, His Songs Half Written, His Work Half Done, Who Knows What Paths His Bruised Feet Trod, What Hills Of Peace Or Pain He Won? I Hope God Smiled And Took His Hand, And Said, "poor Truant, Passionate Fool! Life’s Book Is Hard To Understand: Why Couldst Thou Not Remain At School?" A Poem By Charles Hanson Towne