Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts

Sticks and stones will break our bones, but words will break our hearts.

I know what I really want for Christmas.
I want my childhood back.
Nobody is going to give me that. I might give at least the memory of it to myself if I try. I know it doesn't make sense, but since when is Christmas about sense, anyway? It is about a child, of long ago and far away, and it is about the child of now. In you and me. Waiting behind the door of or hearts for something wonderful to happen. A child who is impractical, unrealistic, simpleminded and terribly vulnerable to joy.

Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.

It will be a great day when our schools have all the money they need, and our air force has to have a bake-sale to buy a bomber.

You are free to give life meaning, whatever meaning you want to give it.