That's The Sacred Intent Of Life, Of

I Know You've Run Away - Everybody Gets The Urge To Do That Some Time - But Sooner Or Later You'll Want To Go Home.

When Compassion Wakes Up In Us, We Find Ourselves More Willing To Become Vulnerable, To Take The Risk Of Entering The Pain Of Others.

Soul. The Word Rebounded To Me, And I Wondered, As I Often Had, What It Was Exactly. People Talked About It All The Time, But Did Anybody Actually Know? Sometimes I'd Pictured It Like A Pilot Light Burning Inside A Person--a Drop Of Fire From The Invisible Inferno People Called God. Or A Squashy Substance, Like A Piece Of Clay Or Dental Mold, Which Collected The Sum Of A Person's Experiences--a Million Indentations Of Happiness, Desperation, Fear, All The Small Piercings Of Beauty We've Ever Known.

All My Life I've Thought I Needed Someone To Complete Me, Now I Know I Need To Belong To Myself.

I Marvel At How Good I Was Before I Met Him, How I Lived Molded To The Smallest Space Possible, My Days The Size Of Little Beads That Passed Without Passion Through My Fingers. So Few People Know What They're Capable Of. At Forty-two I'd Never Done Anything That Took My Own Breath Away, And I Suppose Now That Was Part Of The Problem - My Chronic Inability To Astonish Myself.