We move through places every day that would never have been if not for those who came before us. Our workplaces, where we spend so much time — we oft… - Mitch Albom

Dor shook his head. “The phrase. What does it mean?”
Sarah wondered if he was kidding. “Time flies? You know, like, time goes really fast and suddenly you’re saying goodbye
and it’s like no time passed at all?”
His eyes drifted. He liked it. “Time flies.”
“With you,” she added.

"When he went blundering back to God,
His songs half written, his work half done,
Who knows what paths his bruised feet trod,
What hills of peace or pain he won?
I hope God smiled and took his hand,
And said, "Poor truant, passionate fool!
Life’s book is hard to understand:
Why couldst thou not remain at school?"

A poem by Charles Hanson Towne"

Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.