I Write To Empty My Mind And

Everything, Absolutely Everything On This Earth Makes Sense, And Even The Smallest Things Are Worthy Of Our Consideration.

Happiness Is This Place That, Once You Arrive There, You Have Nothing Else To Do. You Get Bored. Passion Is This Up And Down; It's Like A Rollercoaster, You Know, And Much More Interesting To Me.

The Trouble With Words Is That They Give Us The Illusory Sense That We Are Making Ourselves Understood As Well As Understanding What Others Are Saying. However, When We Turn Around And Come Face-to-face With Our Destiny, We Discover That Words Are Not Enough.

The Parents Always Insisted On Telling Their Child That Their Secret Friends Didn't Exist - Perhaps Because They Had Forgotten That They Too Had Spoken To Their Angel At One Time. Or, Who Knows, Perhaps They Thought They Lived In A World Where There Was No Longer Any Place For Angels.

Still, Being Fragile Creatures, Humans Always Try To Hide From Themselves The Certainty That They Will Die. They Do Not See That It Is Death Itself That Motivates Them To Do The Best Things In Their Lives. They Are Afraid To Step Into The Dark, Afraid Of The Unknown, And Their Only Way Of Conquering That Fear Is To Ignore The Fact That Their Days Are Numbered. They Do Not See That With An Awareness Of Death, They Would Be Able To Be Even More Daring, To Go Much Further In Their Daily Conquests, Because Then They Would Have Nothing To Lose- For Death Itself Is Inevitable.