Love May Fail

Docendo discimus. (Latin. By teaching, we learn.)

Another thought hits me hard as a lawn dart to the eye: this moment is so terribly unimportant to the rest of the world, yet it means everything to me somehow—and it’s enough.

As I look around the ruined house, completely full of one woman’s memories, which are so trivial and unimportant to the rest of the world but everything to her, I think that Portia and I owe it to ourselves to be something more than what we came from.

A gift is a great responsibility, a fact that your mother knew well, and such gifts often force us to make sacrifices, be better than we think possible, rise up for the sake of others—and while employing said gifts often makes our lives more complicated thanthe lives of others less burdened, we are never more miserable than when we stop using our talents.

“You can’t kill yourself because you’ll kill the best part of me,”

you become exactly
whomever you
chooseto be

You know what you call a herd of unicorns?
A blessing.

Do you know what happens when you do nothing? Nothing.