My mother died of metastatic colorectal cancer shortly before three P.M. on Christmas Day of 2008. I don't know the exact time of her death because none of us thought to look at a clock for a while after she stopped breathing.
To love beauty is to see light.
To give thanks in solitude is enough. Thanksgiving has wings and goes where...
A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
One is not idle because one is absorbed. There is both visible and invisible...
Madam C. J. Walker (1867-1919) was “the first Black woman...
It may be that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as...
True beauty is something that attacks, overpowers, robs, and finally...
