the skin of moss / holds the footprints of / star-footed birds.

It used to be on the Internet no one knew you were a dog. Now not only does everyone know that you are a dog, they know what kind of a dog you are, who you run with, where you hide your bones, the accidental piddle behind the couch, the fight you got into with the boxer, and your thoughts on the hot poodle down the street.

What you need will come back to you.

What one heart finds hard to believe, a hundred find easy.

I haven't a clue how my story will end, but that's all right. When you set out on a journey and night covers the road, that's when you discover the stars.

If prayers worked, Hitler would have been stopped at the border of Poland by angels with swords of fire.

Answers are closed rooms and questions are open doors that invite us in.