She was his life, his everything.

As long as they were together, they could face anything. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone—and she knew he didn’t either.

He knew himself well enough that once she was gone he wouldn’t last regardless. His heart would simply stop beating without her.

There would never be anyone else. Not if he lived a thousand lifetimes.

The woman lived inside him, was his mate.

I’m not letting you go, Fiona, ” he murmured before brushing his lips over hers. She tasted like heaven. And his. Only his. “I’m not going anywhere.

Celebrate who you are in your deepest heart. Love yourself and the world will love you.

To make a simple change of a typeface can instantly transform text which had the appearance and tone of a joyous announcement to suddenly convey that of a somber tragedy.

Let us hear the suspicions. I will look after the proofs.

[T]he course of this nation does not depend on the decisions of others. Whatever action is required, whenever action is necessary, I will defend the freedom and security of the American people.

I certainly hear the Trombones Unlimited version of "Daydream" in a lot of elevators.

Any activity becomes creative when the doer cares about doing it right or better.

Sometimes when you follow your dream; it opens the door for others to be able to follow theirs.

The essence of generosity is letting go. Pain is always a sign that we are holding on to something - usually ourselves.

I serve dinner in three phases: serve the food, clear the table, bury the dead.

In what way can a revelation be made but by miracles? In none which we are able to conceive.