Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement. I will not try it. Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother. – Jane Welsh Carlyle
Original Poems for Infant Minds My Mother Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My Mother. – Anon.
Why do you think the old stories tell of men who set out on great journeys to impress the gods? Because trying to impress people just isnt worth the time and effort. – Henry Rollins
