The Music In His Laughter Had A

Sometimes Being A Friend Means Mastering The Art Of Timing. There Is A Time For Silence. A Time To Let Go... And A Time To Prepare To Pick Up The Pieces When It's All Over.

She Could Walk Through A Lightning Storm Without Being Touched; Grab A Bolt Of Lightning In The Palm Of Her Hand; Use The Heat Of Lightning To Start The Kindling Going Under Her Medicine Pot. She Turned The Moon Into Salve, The Stars Into Swaddling Cloth, And Healed The Wounds Of Every Creature Walking Up On Two Or Down On Four.

Time Is A Funny Thing. I Was Always Puzzled With The Way A Single Day Could Stretch Itself Out To The Point Of Eternity In Your Mind, All While Years Melted Down Into The Fraction Of A Second.

Why Do I Write? The Truth, The Unvarnished Truth, Is That I Haven't A Clue.

Contempt Mates Well With Pity.