Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beaut.

It's strange how in childhood it feels like tomorrow won't come until the end of forever, but in adulthood it feels like the end of forever could come tomorrow.

Love—such a keen mystery prone to pierce and shatter the delicate heart.  Yet it possesses more strength, power, and influence than any other magic known to man.

Love is donating a chunk of your life to patch up holes in the life of another.

To love is to accept a soul entirely, not wishing that the person was otherwise, nor hoping for change, nor clinging to some ideal past. To love is to cherish the individual standing before you presently―charms, quirks, and all. To love is to give someone a piece of your heart that you will never, ever reclaim.

Gratitude doesn't change the scenery.  It merely washes clean the glass you look through so you can clearly see the colors.