Write My Name Across the Sky

by Barbara O'Neal

I know how much the ordinary dumb people of the world annoy me, so it’s hard to imagine how much worse it would be if you thought at the speed of light and everyone else thought at the speed of a tricycle.

life is patterns, isn’t it? Patterns and routines create sanity where nothing else can.

The great tragedy of aging is not the loss of the supple body but the illusions we are forced to leave behind, one after the other, like a string of pearls from a necklace. That all will be well, that dreams can come true, that we can always do what we wish, that sacrifice and sorrow are not inevitable.

My gift has always been an ability to be happy. It sounds small until you live in the world for a while.

Why do people put up with so much, or rather, why do they settle for so little?