Promises are like fake tattoos, you keep them for awhile but eventually they wear off.

When life throws its curve ball it is our job to step up to the plate and hit that ball the other direction twice as fast

Maybe I've got to be sufficiently broken by life's many broken promises to be sufficiently compelled to seek out God's unbreakable promises.

Sunsets are loved because they vanish.

Flowers are loved because they go.

The dogs of the field and the cats of the kitchen are loved because soon they must depart.

These are not the sole reasons, but at the heart of morning welcomes and afternoon laughters is the promise of farewell. In the gray muzzle of an old dog we see goodbye. In the tired face of an old friend we read long journeys beyond returns.

I had long ago stopped believing in promises. Biological imperatives, yes. Environmental factors, yes. Promises, no.

Stop a bit and think it over. There do be some knots mighty aisy to tie but the untying is a cat of a different brade.