Happiness is a frame of mind. It is a state of thinking. It is an attitude, a headset, a mentality. Happiness is a disposition and demeanor. It is a mood and sensibility. It is a philosophy, a notion, a tone, an outlook and perspective. Happiness is all of these things, none of which exist separate from me. They cannot be extracted or stolen because they constitute my very being. Therefore, happiness must be the natural essence of me.
If we simply imagined that everyone who crossed our path was living out his or her very last day on Earth, we might treat people as kindly as we ought to each day they lived.
You would think those who have endured unkindness would be kinder as a result, intent on sparing others the awful suffering they abhorred firsthand.
All human beings wield influence – a powerful sword granted at birth. Wield your sword with care.
To offer your life in defense of another is a valiant, honorable way to die.
You can teach a person all you know, but only experience will convince him that what you say is true.
It’s a phenomenal experience jumping from the devious mind of a sorceress bent on conquering the world to the compassionate musing of a queen capable of healing life with a touch – all in a flicker of thought. That’s why I love writing.
Some people do not like you; that’s a given. So what?
On a grim and dismal day that shattered my last ounce of confidence, I broke down and whimpered, “I’m awful and hideous and incompetent and boring and utterly useless.” And then you grinned at me and said, “That’s okay.
Out of all the magic words in existence, kind words produce the most powerful transformation spells.
Sadness is the heart withdrawing to seek shelter from the pain.
There are trials in life that feel as tremendous as a quest to slay dragons. These trials are daunting. They require hard work, determination, and courage. But when the dragon is finally slain, the relief is immense.
None of us have reached the peak of perfection, but it shouldn’t stop anyone from trying to make the climb.
Sadness is like sandpaper; it rubs at our sharper edges, softening and humbling us, making us ready for a coat of compassion.
Art doesn’t bare itself to just anyone, but to believers called artists.
Gratitude is a grinning attitude.
Imagine the greatness this world would know if kindness were as contagious and enduring as the common cold.
To be a rainbow in someone’s cloud is commendable, but I prefer to be the rain because it dampens cheeks and washes away tears.
Hate is loud. Love, however, is so pleasantly felt it has no need to be heard.
Gratitude possesses all the energy of a sunbeam. That is how it makes life blossom.