I think now that maybe true sweetness can only happen in limbo.

I think now that maybe true sweetness can only happen in limbo. I don't know why. Is it because we are so unsure, so tentative and waiting? Like it needs that much room, that much space to expand. The not knowing anything really, the hoping, the aching transience: This is not real, not really, and so we let it alone, let it unfold lightly. Those times that can fly.

There might not be a measure of happiness left in a life, but there could be beauty and grace and endless love.

Remember, happiness doesn't depend on who you are or what you have; it depends solely on what you think.

[Groh confessed to some fleeting thoughts about returning Franklin to corner,] but we'll have to see if fleeting turns into non-fleeting, ... Certainly, that would have to be something that you would quickly think of, but we have to make sure we don't weaken another spot.

The child was slender as fleeting hope.