We Cannot Stop What Heaven Chooses.

Sacrifice Is A Part Of Life. It’s Supposed To Be. It’s Not Something To Regret. It’s Something To Aspire To. Little Sacrifices. Big Sacrifices. A Mother Works So Her Son Can Go To School. A Daughter Moves Home To Take Care Of Her Sick Father.

You'll Come To My Grave? To Tell Me Your Problems?" My Problems? "yes.' And You'll Give Me Answers? "i'll Give You What I Can. Don't I Always?" I Picture His Grave, On The Hill, Overlooking The Pond, Some Little Nine Foot Piece Of Earth Where They Will Place Him, Cover Him With Dirt, Put A Stone On Top. Maybe In A Few Weeks? Maybe In A Few Days? I See Myself Sitting There Alone, Arms Across My Knees, Staring Into Space. It Won't Be The Same, I Say, Not Being Able To Hear You Talk. "ah, Talk . . . " He Closes His Eyes And Smiles. "tell You What. After I'm Dead, You Talk. And I'll Listen.

The More You Defend A Lie, The Angrier You Become.

Are You Seeing Anyone Romantically?" He Inquired. "no, I'm Not," She Replied. "good. Please Keep It That Way. Because I Intend To Ask You To Marry Me.

To These People, Unhappiness Was A Condition, An Intolerable State Of Affairs. If Pills Could Help, Pills Were Taken. But Pills Were Not Going To Change The Fundamental Problem In The Construction. Wanting What You Can´t Have. Looking For Self-worth In The Mirror. Layering Work On Top Of Work And Still Wondering Why You Weren´t Satisfied - Before Working Some More.