The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with her hair fashionably coiffed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window. “I... Read more »
There is a big deposit of sympathy in the bank of love, but don't draw out little sums every hour or so - so that by and by, when perhaps you need it badly, it is all drawn out and you yourself don't know how or on what it was spent.
Willow: (on her Halloween costume): I'm Joan of Arc. I figured we had a lot in common, seeing as how I was almost burned at the stake. And plus she had that close relationship with God. " Xander: [to Oz] And you are...? [Oz shows a name tag that says 'GOD'] Xander: Of course. Wish I'd thought of that before I put down my deposit. I could've been God. Oz: Blasphemer.
Nothing else matters much...not wealth, nor learning, nor even health...without this gift: the spiritual capacity to keep zest in living. This is the creed of creeds, the final deposit and distillation of all important faiths: that you should be able to believe in life.
The life we live is just a colourful and deposit toy. Some of us take it so seriously and fight and cry for it. Some of us break and throw it. Either we give extreme importance, either not enough. Better to stay far from extremes.