favorite time of day

Afternoon was Mrs. Conroy's favorite time of day. After a hard day at work, her eyes were tired and her feet hurt. She enjoyed the nice long nap she took on the bus. Mrs. Conroy had made friends with the bus driver, Mr. Angstrom. He always woke her up before her stop. She usually felt fresh as a daisy when she got off the bus.

But today was different. Mr. Angstrom wasn't driving. A small man in a wrinkled uniform sat in the driver's seat.

"Where's Mr. Angstrom?" asked Mrs. Conroy, dropping her money into the box.

"I don't know. Sick, I guess. I just work here, lady. Step to the rear."

Mrs. Conroy hoped that Mr. Angstrom was all right. She didn't like this new driver. She decided not to sleep on the way home today. She didn't want to ask this driver to wake her. He didn't look like the type who'd want to do anyone a favor.

Mrs. Conroy looked out the window. It was a warm afternoon. Though she tried to keep her eyes open, the gentle rocking of the bus had a lulling effect. Within a few minutes her eyes closed. Her head dropped to her shoulders. In spite of herself, Mrs. Conroy fell fast asleep.

The next thing Mrs. Conroy knew, a hand was on her shoulder. Someone was shaking her awake.

"Wake up, lady. We've come to the end of the line. Wake up."

Mrs. Conroy blinked and opened her eyes. The bus driver looked down at her. "I said, this is the end of the line, lady. Time to get off the bus."

Mrs. Conroy peered out the window. "Where am I?" she asked. "I was supposed to get off at Essex Avenue."

expecting an answer

My aunt Edith was a widow of 50, working as a secretary, when doctors discovered what was then thought to be a very serious heart ailment.
Aunt Edith doesn’t accept defeat easily. She began studying medical reports in the library and found an article in a magazine about a well-known heart surgeon, Dr. Michael DeBakey, of Houston, Texas. HE had saved the life of someone with the same ailment. The article said Dr. DeBakey’s fees were very high; Aunt Edith couldn’t possibly pay them. But could he tell her of someone whose fee she could pay?
So Aunt Edith wrote to him. She simply listed her reasons for wanting live: her three children, who would be on their own in three or four more years, her little-girl dream of traveling and seeing the world. There wasn’t a word of self-pity---only warmth and humor and the joy of living. She mailed the letter, not really expecting an answer.
A few days later, my doorbell rang. Aunt Edith didn’t wait to come in; she stood in the hall and read aloud: “Your beautiful letter moved me very deeply. If you can come to Houston, there will be no charge for either the hospital or the operation. Signed—Michael DeBakey.”
That was seven years ago. Since then, Aunt Edith has been around the world. Her three children are happily married. For her age, she is one of the youngest, most alive people I know----all because of an open heart surgeon who knew how to honor of his profession, and how to open his own heart.

loomed before you

Suppose you set your mind to work on the problem of how you would use your own eyes if you had three more days to see. If with the oncoming darkness of the third night you knew that the sun would never rise for you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days? What would you most want to let your gaze rest upon?
I, naturally, should want most to see the things which have become dear to me through my years of darkness. You, too, would want to let your eyes rest long on the things that have become dear to you so that you could take the memory of them with you in the night that loomed before you.
I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living. First I should like to gaze long upon the face of my teacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy, who came to me when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education. I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.
Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!

the high school teacher

I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist and that there are as few as there are any other great artists. It might even be the greatest of the art since the medium is the human mind and spirit.
I shall speak only of my first teacher because in addition to the other things, she brought discovery.
She aroused us to shouting, bookwaving discussions. She had the noisiest class in school and she didn’t even seem to know it. We could never stick to the subject. She breathed curiosity into us so that we brought in facts or truths shielded in our hands like captured fireflies.
She was fired and perhaps rightly so, for failing to teach fundamentals. Such things must be learned. But she left a passion in us for the pure knowable world and she inflamed me with a curiosity which has never left. I could not do simple arithmetic but through her I sensed that abstract mathematics was very much like music.
When she was relieved, a sadness came over us but the light did not go out. She left her signature on us, the literature of the teacher who writes on minds. I suppose that to a lager extent I am the unsigned manuscript of the high school teacher. What deathless power lies in the hands of such a person.
I can tell my son who look s forward with horror to fifteen years of drudgery that somewhere in the dusty dark a magic may happen that will light up the years…if he is very lucky.

whether we recognize

Life comes from life. The universe is a living thing made by love and of love. The earth too as part of the universe is a living thing made of love. We experience her love in the abundance of support she provides us such as the air we breathe, the water we drink and the food we eat. And we recognize the divinity of her unconditional love and so call her mother earth or some of us refer to her as goddess. We must recognize as well that we too spring from universal love and as such carry a spark of the divine within each and everyone of us.
Ladies and gentleman,
We are here today to witness and celebrate a passage of life, a passage of love, which Ariele and Martin have chosen to enter upon. They have decided to become more than just lovers, but a family. Moving from onstage of life to another. You have been invited to be physical representatives of the divine and give your support to their union, so as to help make their new path a joyous one, one that is walked upon with wonder and ease. For truly, whether we recognize it or not, we are all family all of the time. Therefore we deeply thank you for your presence as we thank the goddess herself for being with us always.
This celebration is not and end, but a beginning, the start of a new process. From my experience it is not the marriage ceremony nor the marriage that is important, but the love and friendship that you share. Those will ensure a longer lasting relationship than any ritual.
With all my heart I bless you and trust that all will go well in your new life together. My love goes with you, as I am sure everyone else’s love in this place goes with you as sell. Goddess be with you. Blessed be.

Are You sure

I'll think about something else. I'll just sit quietly. If I could sit still. If I could sit still. Maybe I could read. Oh, all the books are about people who love each other, truly and sweetly. What do they want to write about that for? Don't they know it isn't true? Don't they know it's a lie, it's a God damned lie? What do they have to tell about that for, when they know how it hurts? Damn them, damn them, damn them.

I won't. I'll be quiet. This is nothing to get excited about. Look. Suppose he were someone I didn't know very well. Suppose he were another girl. Then I'd just telephone and say, "Well, for goodness' sake, what happened to you?" That's what I'd do, and I'd never even think about it. Why can't I be casual and natural, just because I love him? I can be. Honestly, I can be. I'll call him up, and be so easy and pleasant. You see if I won't, God. Oh, don't let me call him. Don't, don't, don't.

God, aren't You really going to let him call me? Are You sure, God? Couldn't You please relent? Couldn't You? I don't even ask You to let him telephone me this minute, God; only let him do it in a little while. I'll count five hundred by fives. I'll do it so slowly and so fairly. If he hasn't telephoned then, I'll call him. I will. Oh, please, dear God, dear kind God, my blessed Father in Heaven, let him call before then. Please, God. Please.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five....

what does pride matter

Oh, what does pride matter, when I can't stand it if I don't talk to him? Pride like that is such a silly, shabby little thing. The real pride, the big pride, is in having no pride. I'm not saying that just because I want to call him. I am not. That's true, I know that's true. I will be big. I will be beyond little prides.

Please, God, keep me from, telephoning him. Please, God.

I don't see what pride has to do with it. This is such a little thing, for me to be bringing in pride, for me to be making such a fuss about. I may have misunderstood him. Maybe he said for me to call him up, at five. "Call me at five, darling." He could have said that, perfectly well. It's so possible that I didn't hear him right. "Call me at five, darling." I'm almost sure that's what he said. God, don't let me talk this way to myself. Make me know, please make me know.

you on the telephone

I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you. I should think it would be so sweet to be sure.

It would be so easy to telephone him. Then I'd know. Maybe it wouldn't be a foolish thing to do. Maybe he wouldn't mind. Maybe he'd like it. Maybe he has been trying to get me. Sometimes people try and try to get you on the telephone, and they say the number doesn't answer. I'm not just saying that to help myself; that really happens. You know that really happens, God. Oh, God, keep me away from that telephone. Keep me away. Let me still have just a little bit of pride. I think I'm going to need it, God. I think it will be all I'll have.

let me telephone him

This is silly. It's silly to go wishing people were dead just because they don't call you up the very minute they said they would. Maybe the clock's fast; I don't know whether it's right. Maybe he's hardly late at all. Anything could have made him a little late. Maybe he had to stay at his office. Maybe he went home, to call me up from there, and somebody came in. He doesn't like to telephone me in front of people. Maybe he's worried, just a little, little bit, about keeping me waiting. He might even hope that I would call him up. I could do that. I could telephone him.

I mustn't. I mustn't, I mustn't. Oh, God, please don't let me telephone him. Please keep me from doing that. I know, God, just as well as You do, that if he were worried about me, he'd telephone no matter where he was or how many people there were around him. Please make me know that, God. I don't ask YOU to make it easy for me ?You can't do that, for all that You could make a world. Only let me know it, God. Don't let me go on hoping. Don't let me say comforting things to myself. Please don't let me hope, dear God. Please don't.

Maybe he is coming on

He doesn't wish that about me. I don't think he even knows how he makes me feel. I wish he could know, without my telling him. They don't like you to tell them they've made you cry. They don't like you to tell them you're unhappy because of them. If you do, they think you're possessive and exacting. And then they hate you. They hate you whenever you say anything you really think. You always have to keep playing little games. Oh, I thought we didn't have to; I thought this was so big I could say whatever I meant. I guess you can't, ever. I guess there isn't ever anything big enough for that. Oh, if he would just telephone, I wouldn't tell him I had been sad about him. They hate sad people. I would be so sweet and so gay, he couldn't help but like me. If he would only telephone. If he would only telephone.

Maybe that's what he is doing. Maybe he is coming on here without calling me up. Maybe he's on his way now. Something might have happened to him. No, nothing could ever happen to him. I can't picture anything happening to him. I never picture him run over. I never see him lying still and long and dead. I wish he were dead. That's a terrible wish. That's a lovely wish. If he were dead, he would be mine. If he were dead, I would never think of now and the last few weeks. I would remember only the lovely times. It would be all beautiful. I wish he were dead. I wish he were dead, dead, dead.

worse than mine

If he doesn't telephone me, I'll know God is angry with me. I'll count five hundred by fives, and if he hasn't called me then, I will know God isn't going to help me, ever again. That will be the sign. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty, fifty-five... It was bad. I knew it was bad. All right, God, send me to hell. You think You're frightening me with Your hell, don't You? You think. Your hell is worse than mine.

I mustn't. I mustn't do this. Suppose he's a little late calling me up ?that's nothing to get hysterical about.Maybe he isn't going to call ?maybe he's coming straight up here without telephoning. He'll be cross10 if he sees I have been crying. They don't like you to cry. He doesn't cry. I wish to God I could make him cry. I wish I could make him cry and tread the floor and feel his heart heavy and big and festering in him. I wish I could hurt him like hell.

called me

I think he must still like me a little. He couldn't have called me "darling" twice today, if he didn't still like me a little. It isn't all gone, if he still likes me a little; even if it's only a little, little bit. You see, God, if You would just let him telephone me, I wouldn't have to ask You anything more. I would be sweet to him, I would be gay, I would be just the way I used to be, and then he would love me again. And then I would never have to ask You for anything more. Don't You see, God? So won't You please let him telephone me? Won't You please, please, please?

Are You punishing me, God, because I've been bad? Are You angry with me because I did that? Oh, but, God, there are so many bad people ?You could not be hard only to me. And it wasn't very bad; it couldn't have been bad. We didn't hurt anybody, God. Things are only bad when they hurt people. We didn't hurt one single soul; You know that. You know it wasn't bad, don't You, God?So won't You let him telephone me now?

seem too little to You

"I'll call you at five, darling." "Good-bye, darling." He was busy, and he was in a hurry, and there were people around him, but he called me "darling" twice. That's mine, that's mine. I have that, even if I never see him again. Oh, but that's so little. That isn't enough. Nothing's enough, if I never see him again. Please let me see him again, God. Please, I want him so much. I want him so much. I'll be good, God. I will try to be better, I will, If you will let me see him again. If You will let him telephone me. Oh, let him telephone me now.

Ah, don't let my prayer seem too little to You, God. You sit up there, so white and old, with all the angels about You and the stars slipping by. And I come to You with a prayer about a telephone call. Ah, don't laugh, God. You see, You don't know how it feels. You're so safe, there on Your throne, with the blue swirling under You.Nothing can touch You; no one can twist Your heart in his hands. This is suffering, God, this is bad, bad suffering. Won't You help me? For Your Son's sake, help me. You said You would do whatever was asked of You in His name. Oh, God, in the name of Thine6 only beloved Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord, let him telephone me now.

think about something else

I must stop this. I mustn't be this way. Look. Suppose a young man says he'll call a girl up, and then something happens, and he doesn't. That isn't so terrible, is it? Why, it's going on all over the world, right this minute. Oh, what do I care what's going on all over the world? Why can't that telephone ring? Why can't it, why can't it? Couldn't you ring? Ah, please, couldn't you? You damned, ugly, shiny thing. It would hurt you to ring, wouldn't it? Oh, that would hurt you. Damn you, I'll pull your filthy roots out of the wall, I'll smash your smug black face in little bits.7 Damn you to hell.

No, no, no. I must stop. I must think about something else. This is what I'll do. I'll put the clock in the other room. Then I can't look at it. If I do have to look at it, then I'll have to walk into the bedroom, and that will be something to do. Maybe, before I look at it again, he will call me. I'll be so sweet to him, if he calls me. If he says he can't see me tonight, I'll say, "Why, that's all right, dear. Why, of course it's all right." I'll be the way I was when I first met him. Then maybe he'll like me again. I was always sweet, at first. Oh, it's so easy to be sweet to people before you love them.

let him telephone me

PLEASE, God, let him telephone me now. Dear God, let him call me now. I won't ask anything else of You, truly I won't. It isn't very much to ask. It would be so little to You, God, such a little, little thing. Only let him telephone now. Please, God. Please, please, please.

If I didn't think about it, maybe the telephone might ring. Sometimes it does that. If I could think of something else. If I could think of something else. Maybe if I counted five hundred by fives, it might ring by that time. I'll count slowly. I won't cheat. And if it rings when I get to three hundred, I won't stop; I won't answer it until I get to five hundred. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty.... Oh, please ring. Please.

get crush on someone

It takes only a minute to get crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone. But it takes a lifetime to forget someone.

Don't go for looks; they can deceive. Don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile. Because it only takes a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one that makes your heart smile.

Maybe we meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so that when we finally meet the right person. We will know how to be grateful for that gift.

It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.

Giving someone all your love will not provide assurance that they'll love you back. Don’t expect love in return; Just wait for it to grow in their hearts. But if it doesn't, be content. It grew in yours.

There are moments in life when you miss someone so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real!

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything. They just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

Happiness are for those who cry, those who have searched, and those who have tried because only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.