Hatred stops at nothing to destroy, but love can break through the root of evil.

I have no desire to be in a relationship for the sake of being in one,” he said. “I’ve made mistakes in the past, terrible ones. The next time I date a woman, I hope it’s for keeps.

That’s what she wanted more than anything. To be free of her anger. Wounds.

Not exactly, but I’m learning that this life isn’t about me anyway nor is it about what I want out of it. Following Christ is about surrender and faith and about God working through me instead of me working for God.

He cleared our bowls and replaced my soup with a plate of creamy chicken with baby potatoes, carrots, and leeks. In front of Riley, he set fillets of red snapper, the fish ornamented with sprigs of rosemary and wedges of lemon.

With all the flourishes and flowers, these pictures seemed to be created by a young woman anyway. At least one who was young at heart.Heather turned the page again to a pink butterfly named Rosa Belle, and she smiled as she read the description. Rosa Belle was a very proper butterfly, invited often to take tea with the queen in the gardens behind Buckingham Palace.

Are you a fan of escargot?" he asked."Not particularly.""Good." His smile eased onto his lips again. "I get concerned when people eat snails."I glanced down the menu. "What about chicken?""I'm not as concerned.""Then I'm going to order the poulet a la fermiere.""What is that?"I glanced back down at the menu. "It's chicken with cream sauce. A farmwife's bounty, it says, with vegetables and fresh herbs.

On the days Walter came to her apartment, to write down the stories of her butterflies, he always prayed with her, that in their weaknesses- both his and hers- God would be strong. That she would rely on the Creator more than her own creation.She needed that strength now to face her demons. To remember the good things about Oliver without so many of the regrets.

With a quick thank-you, I focused my attention on the pastry he brought. The flavors melted in my mouth- warm chocolate and melted butter and the flaky sweet crust. This was what I loved about France. A keen appreciation for the simplicity and sweetness of life. The French seemed to savor their minutes along with their food.

She did this because Hitler and him men had given her no other choice.