We Cannot Know The Future. All We

You Know Not, Yet, The Sort Of Love That Strikes Like A Lightning Bolt; That Clutches Hold Of You By The Heart, As Irrevocably As Death; That Becomes The Lodestar By Which You Steer The Rest Of Your Life. I Would Not Wish Such A Love On Anyone, Man Or Woman, For It Can Make Your Life A Paradise, Or It Can Destroy You Utterly.

And As I Watched Him, I Knew That In Every Dark Night There Was, Somewhere, A Small Light Burning That Could Never Be Quenched.

As For Religious Faith, A Lack Of It Shouldn't Stop Us From Doing Good Deeds For Their Own Sake.

You Thought You’d Never Give Up Your Vocation, A Voice Whispered Inside Me. You Thought You’d Never Even Consider It. But You’ve Met The One Man Who Could Change Your Mind. He Is Your Perfect Complement. He Is Cathal To Your Clodagh; He Is Bran To Your Liadan. No Wonder You Conjured Up Those Images. No Wonder They Make You Weep.

There Was So Much Of Beauty Here: The Neat, Small Tracks Of A Foraging Creature, Stoat Or Marten; The Inticate Tracery Of A Skeleton Leaf, Still Clinging Vainly To Its Parent Tree As, Little By Little, Time Stripped It Of Its Substance, Leaving Only The Delicate Remembrance Of What It Had Been.