I am thinking by what long discipline and at what cost a man learns to speak simply at last.

all which is forgotten need not necessarily be dead,

Look at the sky. Does its sapphire hue dim when you take a single breath? Are the stars drawn closer when you weep? The sky cannot be diminished so. Thus it is with the spirit: it is a thing without beginning or end.

It was like a lucky pebble kept in my pocket that got so shined up from rubbing against the denim that no one could tell it had ever been an ordinary stone.

Written By Jacquelyn Mitchard

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