{ The History of How I Felt }

We must be our own before we can be another’s.

Time is not what you think. Dying? Not the end of everything. We think it is. But what happens on earth is only the beginning. I figure it’s like in the Bible, the Adam and Eve deal? Adam’s first night on earth? When he lays down to sleep? He think it’s all over right? He doesn’t know what sleep is. His eyes are closing and he thinks he’s leaving this world, right? Only he isn’t. He wakes up the next morning and he has a fresh new world to work with, but he has something else, too. He has his yesterday. The way I see it, that’s what we’re getting here, soldier. That’s what heaven is. You get to make sense of your yesterdays.

I found every single successful person I’ve ever spoken to had a turning point. The turning point was when they made a clear, specific unequivocal decision that they were going to achieve success. Some people make that decision at 15 and some people make it at 50, and most people never make it at all.

When you love someone, its never over. You move on, because you have to, but you take them with you in your heart.

If you don’t have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over?

Life is either a great adventure, or nothing.

Perhaps my purpose in life is to come to grips with myself, properly to grips with myself, with everything that bothers and tortures me and clamors for inner solution and formulation. For these problems are not just mine alone. And if at the end of a long life I am able to give some form to the chaos inside me, I may well have fulfilled my own small purpose.

Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.

Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.

Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we’re quoting.

Never be afraid to trust your unknown future to a known God.

Never follow somebody else’s path; it doesn’t work the same way twice for anyone… the path follows you and rolls up behind you as you walk, forcing the next person to find their own way.

Everyone has their weak spot. The one thing that, despite your best efforts, will always bring you to your knees, regardless of how strong you are otherwise. For some people, it’s love.

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them - a mother’s approval, a father’s nod - are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.