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They’d had their share of sorrow just as she had, and were well versed in the unpredictable way grief operated inside a soul.
Isn’t being a good listener worth anything? Can’t you do something good for the world without standing in a crowd or shouting from a podium?”
He thought, instead, of the mountain and its cloud-hidden, windbeaten tower. They stood as a reminder to him that there were things in this world that were steady, that lasted, even if they had broken down in the process.
Write for yourself, not for someone else, not for an audience. If you truly love to write, if you have to write, you’ll do it even if no one else ever sees
“It is agonizing, the disposition of the human mind to construct obstacles in one’s own path, when the world itself has given us none. Life is so much easier than you think,
“Being remembered had meaning, and there is something not quite right about a person’s existence being extracted from the world.”
“There’s a time for everything to leave the present and become history. We play our part, and then we step the hell out of the way and let whoever comes next build on whatever artifacts we’ve left behind.”
wished I could say something to her, reassure her in some way that what she’d done had meant a lot. That her life had meant a lot. That people leave in the middle of a path sometimes, and we have to keep walking. That small things done with great love become great things.
