The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there...and still on your feet.

The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there... and still on your feet.

Sometimes, he thought, real love is silent as well as blind.

I am not the potter, not the potter's wheel, but the potter's clay; is not the value of the shape attained as dependent upon the intrinsic worth of the clay as upon the wheel and the Master's skill?

Am I weird?"

"Yeah. But so what? Everybody's weird.

We want to stand on our two feet.