“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it is a comfort to go hand in hand.”

“I believe that there are no memories that are okay to forget.Every man's memory is his private literature.Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the sameMemory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand.”

“So what is love then is it dictated or chosen (handed down and made by hand)Does it sing like the hymns of a thousand yearsOr is it just pop emotion (handed down and made by hand)And if it ever was there and it leftDoes it mean it was never trueAnd to exist it must eludeIs that why I think these things of you?”

“Witchcraft was hung, in History,But History and IFind all the Witchcraft that we needAround us, every Day -”

“When we open our hands and take that which is offered to us, we are not only receiving the thing offered, but we are receiving the person.”

“All seems smooth and easy: where is the obstacle?' 'Here! and here!' replied Catherine, striking one hand on her forehead, and the other on her breast, 'in whichever place the soul lives.”

“I did not reach thee, But my feet slip nearer every day; Three Rivers and a Hill to cross, One Desert and a Sea— I shall not count the journey one When I am telling thee. Two deserts—but the year is cold So that will help the sand— One desert crossed, the second one Will feel as cool as land. Sahara is too little price To pay for thy Right hand! The sea comes last. Step merry, feet! So short have we to go To play together we are prone, But we must labor now, The last shall be the lightest load That we have had to draw. The Sun goes crooked—that is night— Before he makes the bend We must have passed the middle sea, Almost we wish the end Were further off—too great it seems So near the Whole to stand. We step like plush, we stand like snow— The waters murmur now, Three rivers and the hill are passed, Two deserts and the sea! Now Death usurps my premium And gets the look at Thee.”