We Get So Caught Up In What

Contempt Mates Well With Pity.

A Star Dies In Heaven Every Time You Snatch Away Someone's Dream.

She Could Walk Through A Lightning Storm Without Being Touched; Grab A Bolt Of Lightning In The Palm Of Her Hand; Use The Heat Of Lightning To Start The Kindling Going Under Her Medicine Pot. She Turned The Moon Into Salve, The Stars Into Swaddling Cloth, And Healed The Wounds Of Every Creature Walking Up On Two Or Down On Four.

It's As If I've Arrived In A Place Where It's All Spirit And No Body -- An Overwhelming Sense Of Calm . . . I Actually Began To Feel Blessed.

The Last Time You're Doing Something - Knowing You're Doing It For The Last - Makes It Even More Alive Than The First.