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Is anybody happier because you passed his way? Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today? This day is almost over, and its toiling time is through; Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you? Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along?  Or a churlish sort of “Howdy” and then vanish in the throng?  Were you selfish pure and simple as you rushed along the way,  Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today? Can you say tonight, in parting with the day that’s slipping fast, That you helped a single brother of the many that you passed? Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said; Does a man whose hopes were fading now with courage look ahead? Did you waste the day, or lose it, was it well or sorely spent? Did you leave…

I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived as true profundity, and others claim they really live the real reality. The variety of our skin tones can confuse, bemuse, delight, brown and pink and beige and purple, tan and blue and white. I’ve sailed upon the seven seas and stopped in every land, I’ve seen the wonders of the world not yet one common man. I know ten thousand women called Jane and Mary Jane, but I’ve not seen any two who really were the same. Mirror twins are different although their features jibe, and lovers think quite different thoughts while lying side by side. We love and lose in China, we weep on England’s moors, and laugh and moan in Guinea, and thrive on Spanish shores. We seek success in Finland, are born…

Perfection was created to make us feel imperfect, but imperfect, of course, is the perfect thing to be. We spend every hour of every day, every day of every week, trying to be different, trying to be unique. Our nature is to search for answers to life’s questions, concepts we don’t understand, like “What is perfection?” You strive to be “perfect,” a term you don’t understand. You should be yourself before it gets out of hand. Surely happiness is of priority over a word like “perfection,” so ask yourself this, Who looks back in your reflection? – Matthew

Open your heart to happiness, Let every pore absorb light. Swim in the joy of the here and now, And cast off the darkness of night. Walk in the summer of sunshine. Fly in the blueness of sky. Know possibilities are boundless. Understand that nothing can die. Step from the shadows of torment. Sing ’til your throat gets too sore. Smile for as long as the day is, And laugh just a little bit more. Breathe slowly and deeply and listen. Give all your ideas a chance. Let the sun beat down on your goodness, And kick off your shoes and dance. – Paul Hayward

If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at, You can let them look at you. But do not mistake eyes for hands or windows or mirrors. Let them see what a woman looks like. They may have not ever seen one before. If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch, You can let them touch you. Sometimes, it is not you they are reaching for. Sometimes it is a bottle, a door, a sandwich, a Pulitzer — another woman. But their hands found you first. Do not mistake yourself for a guardian or a muse or a promise or a victim or a snack. You are a woman — skin and bones, veins and nerves, hair and sweat. You are not made out of metaphors, not apologies, not excuses. If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,…