Love doesn’t happen to me or to you. It happens between us.
Hurry. Worry. Memory. These are big weeds.
We all have our stories. They’re like husks in the garden of now.
The past is what we see in the rear-view mirror. For some, this innocuous reflective device serves as a first-line navigational aid. They go forward, knuckles whitened, by looking backward.
Take the direct route to happiness: Drop all concern with past and future.