Love is donating a chunk of your life to patch up holes in the life of another.

As a child, I once suffered a bad fall that resulted in scratched palms and scraped knees. I remember how badly it stung, the cold air hitting my bleeding wounds; I felt that I couldn’t stand up for the pain. Through a veil of tears, I recall a kind hand reaching for me and helping me to my feet. My knees and palms were washed clean, and I remember thinking that for the rest of my life, I wanted to help people stand back up.

Often we withhold our affections, waiting first for love to be extended to us. The irony is that we are loved for loving.

A single act of kindness is like a drop of oil on a patch of dry skin—seeping, spreading, and affecting more than the original need.

Kind words and tender affections will not save me from this lake of woe and misery, but they may be enough of a buoy to prevent my drowning.

Every sunrise is an invitation for us to arise and brighten someone's day.