I gather the last remnants of the evening’s breeze, so cool and lazy within my arms, feeling it curl up like a small and innocent kitten.
I travel because I become uncomfortable being too comfortable.
Sometimes we make being happy so difficult. And being thankful such a chore.
Remember, Little Ones, everything is not important all the time. Only living is important all the time. Not things. Not money. Not more things and more endless money. Spend well the quality of your time. And yes, be greedy with your hours. If only to then give those hours away as the most precious gifts you have to offer to yourself, your family, and your friends. And yes, to my Little Ones.” –From The Legacy Letters–“The Everything and Nothing of Money.
Rain with an umbrella while holding hands with your lover is damned sure nice.
I travel for the great stories now ready tell, and those waiting to be told.
I travel to know where I fit into the world, and where I don’t.
Thanksgiving – fall’s finale. Best damn holiday of the year in my worldly estimation.
Take off my clothes and there becomes a man. Take off my skin and there becomes my bones. Break all my bones and there becomes my heart. Smash my heart and there becomes my soul. And that you cannot take.
Love your kids and just be there for them. You don’t have to eyeball their every moment or to orchestrate all their comings and goings. They know this. They know that’s too much. All they want is to be assured that there’s a home fire cooking, that there are two foremen and a rulebook, and that there’s someone to tuck them in at night.
You become a man when you marry not just for love but to be a partner with your wife. To be the best man you can be with her, and when you fall short, to admit your shortcomings and to constantly strive to be a great man to your wife.
Sometimes I travel just to be overwhelmed – for it’s good every now and then to be overwhelmed.
As I see it, you GET married – but you MAKE a marriage.
And I don’t care what age you are, kissing in the rain is the best.
Don’t have kids until you’re ready. And when you do have them, have them all the way. They aren’t like some Cadillac that you can turn back into the dealership after three years.
I travel for the jolting, angelic act of seeking strangeness and newness and profoundness.
Summer, dropping so easily a delicious everything upon your skin and lips. Like a never-ending kiss – taunting, deep, and luscious. The sun. The heat. The thousand echoes of a timelessness before time, when every day seems longer than the next and no day seems likely to ever truly end. Summer.
A good man lives for the joy in life and the happiness of being alive, not shackled to the wants of the future or the regrets of the past.
Summer, dropping so easily a delicious everything upon your skin and lips. Like a never-ending kiss – taunting, deep, and luscious.
Rain with no shoes is just as much fun as rain with big rubber galoshes.