Anyone who takes the time to be kind is beaut.

It is a fight to let go of a past that refuses to withdraw its sticky tentacles from your present.

One bad turn does not excuse another.

I love you because you loved me first. Yet you love me, saying I loved you first. Funny, our love thrives believing the other person started it.

I've a habit of placing a happy-face or a frowny-face on my calendar, depending on what kind of day I've had.  Often I slap a droopy circle in the box, discouraged by the things I failed to accomplish and the unpleasant encounters endured.  But then, invariably, a wise muse stops to ask me these three questio.

A closed book will lie there like a dead horse. But an open book will kick, buck, and bolt through perceived adventures like a wild and free stallion. So hold on.