It was so quiet in that room I could practically hear the plants growing.

He squinted and said, “Hmmm,” which translated from “male” means, “I don’t actually agree with that idea, but I don’t have a comeback line to common sense.

No point worrying about a storm until we smell rain.

Jorge Luis Borges: “I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.” “The.

One doesn’t know how brave one is until the cost outweighs the fear.

The face that greeted me, however, was far from welcoming, it was a miniature stick insect of a woman with wiry white hair and enormous glasses that emphasized her heavily wrinkled face. She blinked twice and looked me up and down. By the look on her face, she wasn’t that impressed with what she saw. “Who is it, Ethel?”She responded, “It’s some homeless woman. She looks like she needs money and a good wash.” And I thought I’d already reached the lowest point of my day.

The ‘coons had enjoyed a real party, and my trashcan had been the piñata! They’d obviously indulged in an evening of feasting on our wares and then staggered off the property loaded up with our birdseed as a little take-home gift!

I soon forgot about my bedraggled appearance. Until, that is, an old man shuffled in and propped himself, hunched and wheezing, over the check-in desk. Karen asked him if he needed assistance. “No,” he grunted sucking on his teeth, “your wet-T-shirt librarian with the punk rock hair is helping me out just fine.

It made me wonder if there is much difference in our hearts between love and grief. they both have a yearning that seems unable to be satisfied.

No point worrying about a storm until we smell rain