For my disciples, the map is simple. All lonely roads lead back to music. I embrace you. I forgive you. I will never leave you. Can humans say the same?
For me, Ted, living means I can be responsive to the other person. It means I can show my emotions and my feelings. Talk to them. Feel with them …
For centuries, musicians have sought to find me at the end of a needle or the bottom of a drink. It is an illusion. And it often ends badly. Take
Fear is how you lose your life . . . a little bit at a time. . . . What we give to fear, we take away from . . . faith. The
Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person i want to be? Is today the day I die?
Ends are for yesterdays, not tomorrows. Dor
Eddie admitted that some of his life he'd spent hiding from God, and the rest of the time he thought he went unnoticed.
Dor remembered Victor’s voice.And while they deepen with age, voicesare, to one destined to listen for eternity,as distinct as a fingerprint. Dor knew it
Does this prove what we believe?If you believe it, you don't need proof.
Do what the Buddhists do. Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, ‘Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?
Did you ever hear a sermon that felt as if it were being screamed into your ear alone? When that happens, it usually has more to do with you than the preacher.
Dear friends. I’m dying. Don’t be upset. I began to die on July 6, 1917. That’s the day I was born, and, in council with what our psalmist says, ‘We who are born, are born to die.
Courage is confused with picking up arms and cowardness is confused with laying them down.
Common sense would have told Sarah to steer clear of Ethan's waters. But common sense has no place in first love and never has.
But daughters have their own lives. You can’t smother them. She’ll get married. Have children.
Being unheard is the ground floor of giving up.
Because we embrace our scars more than our healing. [...] We can recall the exact day we got hurt, but who remembers the day the wound was gone?
At a certain point, your life is more about your legacy to your kids than anything else.
And it's so true. Without love, we are birds with broken wings.
And I suppose tapes are a desperate attempt to steal something from Death's suitcase.