richelle-e-goodrich

One of the most critical decisions made in life is choosing with whom to spend your time. For it is those close relationships that gradually mold our character until we become a reflection of the company we keep.

Dogs are loyal friends, and if they could talk, your secrets would still be safe. (If my cat could talk, I__ have to let the dog eat her.)

I wish everyone had someone who never popped their balloons.

Friends are the artists who paint happy lips on your face.

Be someone__ security blanket when theirs is in the wash.

To obtain wealth beyond measure, seek to make more friends than money.

Heaven's currency is friendship.

Daydream. Because you can't accomplish what you've never fully imagined.

The magic of reading happens when an author__ written work strings you along until your imagination, aware of your wants, molds the tale into an extraordinary world to be visited frequently__erhaps dwelt in for years.

If there weren__ so many interesting conversations taking place inside my head, I might venture to speak out loud.

If you ever expect to write fairytales, you've got to get your head in the clouds.

An inexhaustible imagination is the fountain of youth.

What if stars were the glimmering tears of a giant, welling in his cheeks, waiting to fall at the first tender stroke of emotion? What if the moon were a wide-open eye gazing down on our tiny, little world and its tiny, little inhabitants as they rush to and fro in pursuit of tiny, little dreams? What if the sun were the glowing heart of a great beast, pumping hot blood to keep him alive while providing warmth for our pitiful world? Ahhh, imagination; it is a wondrous thing!

My favorite words in the world are t

Mistakes focus our minds on specific details. They weed out truths and afford us goals, bringing straight to our attention lessons to be learned. Mistakes are not meant to make us failures; they are meant to make us wise.

Acknowledge that some moments are just plain awful__esperate and gloomy and painful and miserable and nothing at all but anguish. No truthful, cheerful thought in the world will fix it. So let me cry awhile. Don't try to find a sunbeam where a shroud of darkness encloses me. Let me mourn. Then, after the storm, when the tears have run dry and my eyes choose to open, I will look for your rainbow of hope.

There would be no cloud-nine days without rock-bottom moments left below.

There are in this world ample reasons to be sad and disheartened, discouraged and fearful. But there are as many reasons not to be.