Give me good digestion, Lord, And also something to digest; but where and how that something comes I leave to Thee, who knoweth best.
— Mary Webb
We are tomorrow's past.
The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow's past.
Nature's music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.
Saddle your dreams before you ride em.
If you stop to be kind, you must swerve often from your path.
