This is important to remember. Love isn't like pie.

You don't need to divide it among all your friends

and loved ones. No matter how much love you give, you can always give more. It doesn't run out, so

don't try to hold back giving it as if it may one day run out. Give it freely and as much as you want.

Do you think you're living an ordinary life? You are so mistaken it's difficult to even explain. The

mere fact that you exist makes you extraordinary. The odds of you existing are less than winning the

lottery, but here you are. Are you going to let this extraordinary opportunity pass?

She had been told time and time again that the most important steps were the first and the last. It

was something that she carried within her in everything she did, but then he showed up and

disrupted everything. He told her that she had it wrong. The first step wasn't the most important. The

last step wasn't the most important. It was the next step that was the most important.

The wave crashed and hit the sandcastle head-on. The sandcastle began to melt under the waves

force and as the wave receded, half the sandcastle was gone. The next wave hit, not quite as

strong, but still managed to cover the remains of the sandcastle and take more of it away. The third

wave, a big one, crashed over the sandcastle completely covering and engulfing it. When it receded,

there was no trace the sandcastle ever existed and hours of hard work disappeared forever.

Sleeping in his car was never the plan but sometimes things don't work out as planned. This had

been his life for the last three months and he was just beginning to get used to it. He didn't actually

enjoy it, but he had accepted it and come to terms with it. Or at least he thought he had. All that

changed when he put the key into the ignition, turned it and the engine didn't make a sound.

He knew what he was supposed to do. That had been apparent from the beginning. That was what

made the choice so difficult. What he was supposed to do and what he would do were not the same.

This would have been fine if he were willing to face the inevitable consequences, but he wasn't.
Out of another, I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf belonging to the estate. There

is a beautiful shaded lane that runs down there from the house. I always fancy I see people walking

in these numerous paths and arbors, but John has cautioned me not to give way to fancy in the

least. He says that with my imaginative power and habit of story-making a nervous weakness like

mine is sure to lead to all manner of excited fancies and that I ought to use my will and good sense

to check the tendency. So I try.

It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that

there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're

frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do

next

He was an expert but not in a discipline that anyone could fully appreciate. He knew how to hold the

cone just right so that the soft server ice-cream fell into it at the precise angle to form a perfect cone

each and every time. It had taken years to perfect and he could now do it without even putting any

thought behind it. Nobody seemed to fully understand the beauty of this accomplishment except for

the new worker who watched in amazement.

Sitting in the sun, away from everyone who had done him harm in the past, he quietly listened to

those who roamed by. He felt at peace in the moment, hoping it would last, but knowing the reprieve

would soon come to an end. He closed his eyes, the sun beating down on face and he smiled. He

smiled for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Sitting in the sun, away from everyone who had done him harm in the past, he quietly listened to

those who roamed by. He felt at peace in the moment, hoping it would last, but knowing the reprieve

would soon come to an end. He closed his eyes, the sun beating down on face and he smiled. He

smiled for the first time in as long as he could remember.

the table. A person chewing with their mouth open. Another human imposing themselves into her

space. She couldn't stand any of these things, but none of them compared to the number one thing

she couldn't stand which topped all of them combined.

What was beyond the bend in the stream was unknown. Both were curious, but only one was brave

enough to want to explore. That was the problem. There was always one that let fear rule her life.

Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the morning, rushing over

Winchester eastward, a line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it and taken

it for an ordinary falling star. It seemed that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him.

Green vines attached to the trunk of the tree had wound themselves toward the top of the canopy.

Ants used the vine as their private highway, avoiding all the creases and crags of the bark, to freely

move at top speed from top to bottom or bottom to top depending on their current chore. At least this

was the way it was supposed to be. Something had damaged the vine overnight halfway up the tree

leaving a gap in the once pristine ant highway.

Eating raw fish didn't sound like a good idea. "It's a delicacy in Japan," didn't seem to make it any

more appetizing. Raw fish is raw fish, delicacy or not.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved

one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one?s

cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. One dollar

and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas...

There once lived an old man and an old woman who were peasants and had to work hard to earn
their daily bread. The old man used to go to fix fences and do other odd jobs for the farmers around,

and while he was gone the old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and worked in their own

little plot of land.

It was easy to spot her. All you needed to do was look at her socks. They were never a matching

pair. One would be green while the other would be blue. One would reach her knee while the other

barely touched her ankle. Every other part of her was perfect, but never the socks. They were her

micro act of rebellion.

The lone lamp post of the one-street town flickered, not quite dead but definitely on its way out.

Suitcase by her side, she paid no heed to the light, the street or the town. A car was coming down

the street and with her arm outstretched and thumb in the air, she had a plan.