One Never Quite Stops Believing, Some Doubt

Invulnerable To Time, Dedicated To The Messianic Happiness Of Thinking For Us, Knowing That We Knew That He Would Not Take Any Decision For Us That Did Not Have Our Measure, For He Had Not Survived Everything Because Of His Inconceivable Courage Or His Infinite Prudence But Because He Was The Only One Among Us Who Knew The Real Size Of Our Destiny.

From The Moment I Wrote 'leaf Storm' I Realized I Wanted To Be A Writer And That Nobody Could Stop Me And That The Only Thing Left For Me To Do Was To Try To Be The Best Writer In The World.

A Short Time Later, When The Carpenter Was Taking Measurements For The Coffin, Through The Window They Saw A Light Rain Of Tiny Yellow Flowers Falling. They Fell On The Town All Through The Night In A Silent Storm, And They Covered The Roofs And Blocked The Doors And Smothered The Animals Who Slept Outdoors. So Many Flowers Fell From The Sky That In The Morning The Streets Were Carpeted With A Compact Cushion And They Had To Clear Them Away With Shovels And Rakes So That The Funeral Procession Could Pass By.

It Had To Teach Her To Think Of Love As A State Of Grace: Not The Means To Anything But The Alpha And Omega, An End It Itself.

Most Fatal Diseases Had Their Own Specific Odor, But ... None Was As Specific As Old Age.