You’re only ever as happy as your least happy child?

I ain&#39;t got no magical powers and mystical trips and all that kind of crap. It&#39;s kind of silly.

It was bad enough to be swallowed up by the intrinsic anger of New York City traffic and its seemingly mad competition between cars, cabs, the ubiquitous delivery trucks, the kamikaze bike messengers and the always-in-a-damn hurry pedestrians.

It’s possible to go on, no matter how impossible it seems, and that in time, the grief . . . lessens. It may not go away completely, but after a while it’s not so overwhelming.

Written By Nicholas Sparks

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