Being with him made me want to make my own dreams, discover my own path. I was my best self when I was with him.

I wanted color. I wanted to soar with happiness even if it meant dealing with the weight of fear and guilt, too. I wanted to live.

Beauty, happiness, they're things so big they can't capture them with their scientific words. It's like what they used to call magic.

History isn't all fact--it's just the story the victors tell to keep themselves in power. And it's been a slow revision. The more time passes, the easier it becomes to reinvent the past.

His lips ever so gently touched mine, and suddenly I felt everything stirring inside me grow wings, let loose, and fly.

Don't you understand? I want to spend my life with you. I want you to be there when I go to bed at night and when I wake up in the morning.

He pulled me closer until his lips breathed me in, until we were sharing one breath.

It means that two people start loving each other. I guess because it can feel really sudden and because it's powerful. Like gravity--an unstoppable force.

There was something else I couldn't quite define--something that made me uneasy. We were a wrong fit, like unmatching puzzle pieces.

coincidence is not just only a road to facts but also a call to ponder

I had a lump in my throat the size of a bundt cake pan.

...two different kinds of Japanese psychotherapies, one based on getting people to stop using feelings as an excuse for their actions and the other based on getting people to practice gratitude.

She understood love. What destroys you saves you, she had told me.

History shows that when the church accommodates culture, it weakens it.

What wastrel mankind destroyed takes time for nature to put to rights.

In fact UN is more of a galaxy of organisations and agencies than one machine.

Getting your house in order and reducing the confusion gives you more control over your life. Personal organization some how releases or frees you to operate more effectively.

There are no other Everglades in the world.

The sin was mine; I did not understand. So now is music prisoned in her cave, Save where some ebbing desultory wave Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand.