We're Tuesday People.

Learn What You Do Not Know. Understand The Consequences Of Counting The Moments.

I Give Myself A Good Cry If I Need It. But Then I Concentrate On The Good Things Still In My Life. I Don't Allow Myself Any More Self-pity Than That. A Little Each Every Morning, A Few Tears, And That's All.

You Should Be Convinced Of The Authenticity Of What You Have, But You Must Also Be Humble Enough To Say That We Don't Know Everything. And Since We Don't Know Everything, We Must Accept That Another Person May Believe Something Else.

I Hope You Never Hear Those Words. Your Mom. She Died. They Are Different Than Other Words. They Are Too Big To Fit In Your Ears. They Belong To Some Strange, Heavy, Powerful Language That Pounds Away At The Side Of Your Head, A Wrecking Ball Coming At You Again And Again, Until Finally, The Words Crack A Hole Large Enough To Fit Inside Your Brain. And In So Doing, They Split You Apart.

I Give Myself A Good Cry If I Need It, But Then I Concentrate On All Good Things Still In My Life.