At the end of life, at the end of YOUR life, what essence emerges? What have you filled the world with? In remembering you, what words will others choose?
From the earliest age on, even as we toy with it, we instinctively know there is something mighty about the truth, that it is an immobile, looming star. We grow to crave it.
I'm turning left. Look, everyone, my blinker is on, and I'm turning left. I am so happy to be alive, driving along, making a left turn. I'm serious. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing at this moment: existing on a Tuesday, going about my business, on my way somewhere, turning left.
No one ever went to their deathbed saying, 'You know, I wish I'd eaten more rice cakes.
Peace means no one is worried about anyone else's cookie...in this moment we are all quietly content with the cookies we have.
It often feels like I'm not so much living for the present as I am busy making memories for the future.
I am a slow reader, and fast eater; I wish it were the other way around.
I have not survived against all odds. I have not lived to tell. I have not witnessed the extraordinary. This is my story.
It would be difficult to convince me that leaning has no effect whatsoever on the outcome of my bowling.
cozy+smell of pancakes-alarm clock=weekend
I wish I had eaten more rice cakes.
If you want to grow up to be a big, strong pea, you have to eat your candy," Papa Pea would say.
If someone is in a bad mood, tickling only makes it worse.
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