We all grow tired eventually; it happens to everyone. Even the sun, at the close of the year, is no longer a morning person.

God blows on the leaves, they turn to gold, and we call it autumn.

It's all about motive. Climbing up and climbing out look the same on the outside.

Sometimes exhaustion is not a result of too much time spent on something, but of knowing that in its place, no time is spent on something else.

She was a poetry book with the wrong dust jacket, shelved in the Reference section.

The horizon changes but the sun does not.