Every Precious and Fragile Thing

by Barbara Davis

None of us knows for sure what’s out there, but hope makes the unbearable bearable, and so I’ve chosen hope.

That’s what real music does. It gets people to listen long enough for you to say what you have to say. It doesn’t have to be some lofty thing played by a string quartet. It just has to reach people, to speak to them.”

creepy was in the eye of the beholder, and that loving a thing was all that was necessary to make it precious.

“Once you learn a thing about yourself, you can’t unlearn it. You can pretend not to see it but it’s always there, reminding you that you’re on the wrong path. But eventually, something—or someone—forces you to see it.

“Love doesn’t stop, sweetheart. Not when it’s real. Infatuation, passion, those things burn themselves out in time. But when you find that soul-deep connection with someone, it’s forever.”

Every love is different because every person is different—and they make us different when we’re with them.

We’re reminded to spend the time we have left on what’s truly meaningful, to lay down the things we can’t control—things we finally realize we’ve never controlled—and live in the moment. We start looking back instead of always ahead, and feel a profound sense of gratitude for all we’ve been given. The acceptance has to come first. Then comes the grace. And sometimes, even joy.”