Memory is like a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.
- Pierce Harris
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't
know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and
betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings,