On my lunch break from work I walked along wet streets, trying not to think about the internet and things on it.
And I saw this, on a crosswalk signal pole, barely there, barely noticeable except for those who might look, who might stand waiting for the light to change to cross the rivers of asphalt, a love poem of the best sort:
“Why does beauty remind us of something we cannot remember?”
And I smiled.
Another quote for you, this one from me:
You can weave love, like stories, into the warmest of cloaks to wrap about you against the coldest of winds.
Not all shields must be made of wood or metal, and not all which protects you must prevent you.
All of you.