It is one of the paradoxes of American literature that our writers are forever looking back with love and nostalgia at lives they couldn't wait to leave.
Love is what you get even when you don't give anything.
Your thoughts and actions not only influence your mood, but the moods of all you cross paths with. Thinking lovingly. Do lovingly. Be a messenger for love.
In hatred as in love, we grow like the thing we brood upon. What we loathe, we graft into our very soul.
If it seems like you are playing around and not practicing, that's when you know you really love it.
I want you to be everything that's you, deep at the center of your being.
Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.
Let not one single life have passed in vain. What really matters is who you love and how you love.
You know it's love when all you want is that person to be happy, even if you're not part of their happiness.
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.