Don’t waste your days with grievance. Time is better spent on grace. Save a moment for forgiveness and compassion, just in case.

A couple spins around the sun is all we get before we’re done. A fleeting chance to seize the day before the light revolves away.

To coalesce, a book encages unkempt words in bounded pages.

We need not repeat the ventriloquist’s voice. We don’t have to dance to the puppeteer’s strings. We’re all on this stage and we all have a choice: To follow along, or to do our own things.

Your wit is lightning; mine slow burns. Your brain retains while mine relearns. Your words make sense; mine just make do. But I don’t mind, cause I’ve got you.

It seems these days the best advice is what we most ignore. And when we know we’re doing wrong, we often do it more.

If you sweat them, words can shake you. If you let them, words can break you. If you fight them, words can jade you. If you write them, words can aid you.

Every word you say, once said, is carved into your past; Be careful with your future words in case they are your last.

We’re specks upon a spinning rock that loops around the sun What counts is how we treat our fellow specks before we’re done.

There’s not much risk of flying high if you stay on the ground. There’s little chance of being heard if you don’t make a sound. There’s not much hope of making waves if you won’t leave the shore. So don’t live life avoiding what makes life worth living for.

When your bookshelf hits its limit, it will buckle from the strain; lots of books can sink your shelving, but they’ll also lift your brain.

Every heartbeat, every breath, Delays the day we’ll meet our death. But life rewards the joys we bring, So why just breathe, when you can sing?

I think there’s more to life than what we sense and hear and see. I bet we only grasp the edge of all this world can be Perhaps in time we’ll find we can perceive what more is there, Or else stay deaf and blind to truth by choosing not

To show good taste, you don’t need food. Just act with grace and don’t be rude.

The secret to writing is not what you think, but what you convey when your thoughts become ink.

The hand you’re dealt has more appeal when you’re the one who gets to deal.