But we know a few things about love. For one, it’s patient and kind. Or so says God. And Macklemore, I guess. It doesn’t boast. It isn’t arrogant or rude, insisting on its own way…whoa, whoa, whoa.
And most of the time it feels like the safest conversations are the shallow ones. But I don’t want to live in a world where our only conversational refuge is chit-chat about the weather.
When I grow up, I’ll have it all together. I’ll wake up every day at five am and never hit the snooze button.
There’s something jarring about a person betraying his brand and stubbornly sitting in that broken promise like it’s who he’s been along. It’s an act of self-betrayal before it’s an act of any other sort of betrayal.
There’s a piece of furniture in my family that’s almost become sort of a character in our stories. It’s terrified little girls and beat up little boys. I don’t know if it’s got a heart, but it’s definitely got soul…
When I think of seasons, I think of Cummings and the inevitable, ordinary passing of days. And it reminds me that I’m just a human like other humans (down they forgot as up they grew). I was born, and one day I’ll die.