richelle-e-goodrich

Who told you it was too late? And more importantly, why did you choose to believe them?

Like yeast, it__ impressive how considerably an ounce of determination can make one__ efforts grow and expand.

You are right, I do fall down a lot. But that wouldn__ be true if I never stood back up.

If you plan to build walls around me, know this__ will walk through them.

I write so others might contemplate things that are out of the ordinary. I write to make people feel__o cause laughter and tears and anger at injustice. I write so the world will imagine and wonder at crazy, incredible truths. I write to have a tiny bit of influence on a universal conscience.

Twitter is a serious writing distraction. As are grapefruits. The two have nothing else in common.

I read so I might live a thousand lives in a lifetime. I write to control the particulars in those lives.

Sometimes when I prepare to write, I feel the same sensation wash over me as if my toes were curling over the brink of a high cliff, my gaze peering downward into a dark pond, and I anxiously wonder, will the water prove deep enough? Will my words be satisfactory?

I might be tempted to socialize more if the conversations taking place around me were half as interesting as the dialogue going on inside my head.

Past and Present I know well; each is a friend and sometimes an enemy to me. But it is the quiet, beckoning Future, an absolute stranger, with whom I have fallen madly in love.

Sometimes ideas flow from my mind in a raging river of stringed sentences; I can scarcely scribble on the page fast enough to keep up with the mental current. Sometimes, however, beavers move in and dam the whole thing up.

A writer writesregardless...even though...notwithstanding...despite...at any rate...anyhow...nevertheless...in the face of...undeterred by...heedless of...and because.The true writer simply continues to write.

Pride is not your friend. He would have you think he is, that he affords you strength and courage, but in truth he robs you of your health and by slow, diluted degrees steals your might. He is a crafty and cunning liar who would have you think that stubborn, unapologetic, superior, boastful, and popular are admirable traits. Pride would convince you that being right is more crucial than being kind. He would have you sever relationships, even turn your back on family and friends rather than utter a humble apology. To do so is beneath you, pride would say. He would have you fight like a raptor and gnash your teeth while jutting out an inflexible jaw to defend and protect him, regardless of who is hurt in the process. He would use and demean you in order to puff up and fortify himself. He would destroy your life and every meaningful association before casting you aside without a hint of remorse. Again, Pride is not your friend.

When we all pass from this life and gather on the other side, the only thing each of us will have is his own story to tell.

The communication block between men and

Barking at people earns their respect about as effectively as staring into the sun improves your vision.

It's strange how in childhood it feels like tomorrow won't come until the end of forever, but in adulthood it feels like the end of forever could come tomorrow.

I can't force your lips to smile, but I can show them how easily mine do.