One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon—instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.

Stabs heal, words hurt when the deceiver re enters you would face same outbursts.

Class is the sure-footedness that comes with having proved you can meet life.

Ah, the prayers of the millions, how they must fight and destroy each other on their way to the throne of God.

Written By John Steinbeck

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