He is flitting and hopping about in the lobby like a sparrow whose nest had just been blown down in a windstorm.

Love is not simply the sum of sweet greetings and wrenching partings and kisses and embraces, but is made up more of the memory of what has happened and the imagining of what is to come.

Hey. Nobody has any trouble believing in the internet, right, which really is magic. So what's the problem believing in a virtual private network for Santa's business? It results in real toys, real presents, delivered by Christmas morning, what's the difference?

It is the imperfect that astonishes and attracts us.

Written By Paulo Coelho

About us

Featured posts

Featured Topics

Quick Links