Roses Can Grow In Slums

It's Our Memories That Make Us Who We Are. Without Them, We're Nothing. If That Means We Have To Hurt Sometimes, It's Worth It.

The Depth Of Love Is Revealed In Its Departure.

So Often The Pain Of Our Life Is No More Than A Reminder To Take Our Hand Off The Stove.

The Smells Of Christmas Are The Smells Of Childhood [p. 53]

Like All Living Things, Love, Too, Struggles Against Hardship, And In The Process Sheds Its Fatuous Skin To Expose One Composed Of More Than Just A Storm Of Emotion-one Of Loyalty And Divine Friendship. And Though It May Be Temporarily Blinded By Adversity, It Never Gives In Or Up, Holding Tight To Lofty Ideals That Transcend This Earth And Time- While Its Counterfeit Simply Concludes It Was Mistaken And Quickly Runs Off To Find The Next Real Thing.