People don&#39;t come to church for preachments, of course, but to daydream about God.

If June was the beginning of a hopeful summer, and July the juice middle, August was suddenly feeling like the bitter end.

This web of time – the strands of which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries – embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not.

I could give you the world, in fact I could give you the stars to but, my heart it's worth more than a billion more

Written By Xochitl

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