If you rest, you rust.

We rely upon the poets, the philosophers, and the playwrights to articulate what most of us can only feel, in joy or sorrow. They illuminate the thoughts for which we only grope; they give us the strength and balm we cannot find in ourselves. Whenever I feel my courage wavering, I rush to them. They give me the wisdom of acceptance, the will and resiliance to push on.

Only the poet can look beyond the detail and see the whole picture.

Yes I have doubted. I have wandered off the path but I always return. It is intuitive an intrinsic built-in sense of direction. I seem always to find my way home.

My faith has wavered but has saved me.

I was once the typical daughter then the easily recognizable wife and then the quintessential mother. I seem always to have reminded people of someone in their family. Perhaps I am just the triumph of Plain Jane.

Always aim for achievement and forget about success.

If you rest you rust.

The truth [is] that there is only one terminal dignity�love. And the story of a love is not important�what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity.