Such a profound occurrence, when the priorities of those in our lives shine so brightly a path away from who we once thought they were. This light sears insights onto us and helps us along our way. I wonder at times if my old friend hope is my only. She is a relentless presence who will never cease to be – a lone wanderer meeting me time and time again along this road.

Sometimes belief is the reason for liberation; other times, our own conviction prevents our escape. It depends on whether or not you believe God is listening, if you can cling to hope in the gravest of times. Hope is a precious life force within us.

I could almost see fairies skipping on top of the snake-tongue flames—brief moments of clarity overcome by suffocating normalcy. It occurred to me that everything is believable during a glimpse, and it is during these flashes we see things as they truly are—unruly shadows in the corner of our perceptions. The only way to overcome is to act as Rachael did—as we all should—staring into the brightest light we can manage, until any hint of darkness is burned from our vision.

Hope starts as a promise made to yourself, the first drop of rain in a parched land, the first step onto dry earth for a shipwreck survivor. It is a listening crowd for a lonely heart.What we hope in must be greater than us; therefore, we will always need something greater than man to believe in. Good and evil may be a necessity to perceive our world, but hope is a prerequisite for life.

As a child, my mother told me not to talk to strangers. I did my best to obey. She hadn’t realized that everyone is a stranger to the part of us that makes us who we truly are. The part of us that prays for the rest in ways we cannot comprehend. In a sense, we are our own monsters, lying in wait under our own beds--our own angels and demons. The lives we lead will judge us. This is as natural as the sun rising and setting, something that happens whether or not we’re alive.

Those teetering on madness hold keys to doors you know nothing about. You must ask yourself if these rooms are worth visiting—if in the end life would have made more sense having been in them.

I'm not afraid, that's the difference.

Mankind made up a version of reality we could all live in.

Sometimes there’s no map when you go to new places, you have to make unexpected turns, but the beauty is these places are new.

Beauty in the world is not always in the "beautiful.