L. Stole

In fact, no one recognizes the happiest moment of their lives as they are living it. It may well be that, in a moment of joy, one might sincerely believe that they are living that golden instant “now,” even having lived such a moment before, but whatever they say, in one part of their hearts they still believe in the certainty of a happier moment to come. Because how could anyone, and particularly anyone who is still young, carry on with the belief that everything could only get worse: If a person is happy enough to think he has reached the happiest moment of his life, he will be hopeful enough to believe his future will be just as beautiful, more so.

If you’re not human in the next life you can be a tree. A big tree with a nice wide trunk that children wrap their arms around. A tree that a dog takes shade under. A tree that lovers carve their initials into. And they will hang swings from your branches, birds will nest in your canopy. An artist will look at you and fall in love, paint the way the sun filters through your leaves, do nude portrait of you in late fall. You will be a tree and you will live a thousand years and I will be everyone that admires you, that takes shelter in you, that loves you. I will always find you.

Self-love is an ocean and your heart is a vessel. Make it full, and any excess will spill over into the lives of those you hold dear, but you must come first.

There are two types of people you will meet in your life. One will run a finger down the index of who you are and jump straight to the parts of you that peak their interest. The other will take his or her time reading through every one of your chapters and maybe unfold corners of you that inspired them most. You will meet these two people; it is a given. It is the third that you’ll never see coming. That one person who not only finishes your sentences, but keeps the book.