the earth turns

but we don't feel it move. and one night you look up... one spark, and the sky is on fire. the past is the torch that lights our way, where our fathers have shown us the path.

in no chess problem

since the beginning of the world has black ever won. did it not symbolize the eternal, unvarying triumph of good over evil? the huge face gazed back at him, full of calm power. white always mates.

you can't conceive, my child

nor can I or anyone, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of god.

our deepest fear

is not that we're inadequate. our deepest fear is that we're powerful beyond measure. it is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us the most. we ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? actually, who are you not to be?

you are a child of god. your playing small does not serve the world. there's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. we are all meant to shine, as children do.