Legends die hard. They survive as truth rarely does.

We rely upon the poets, the philosophers, and the playwrights to articulate what most of us can only feel, in joy or sorrow. They illuminate the thoughts for which we only grope; they give us the strength and balm we cannot find in ourselves. Whenever I feel my courage wavering, I rush to them. They give me the wisdom of acceptance, the will and resiliance to push on.

Love is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.

When traveling with someone, take large does of patience and tolerance with your morning coffee.

We relish news of our heroes, forgetting that we are extraordinary to somebody too.

Perhaps we have been misguided into taking too much responsibility from our children, leaving them too little room for discovery