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The gentle moon, thus did I spy, pale thief of night, who stole thy silver from my love's fair face. Upon the darkened sky, thy borrowed light doth trace her features sweet, while stars in jealous grace do dim their shine, for thou art lovelier still.

In the heart of the village garden, you'll find ancient rose bushes and weathered stone benches. The old sundial stands quietly in the center, its brass face worn smooth by countless seasons of rain and sunshine. Time moves slowly here, just as it should.

Looking back on my eighty years, I've learned that time moves faster than you expect. The children grow up, the seasons change, and suddenly you're wondering where all those precious moments went. Cherish every day, my dears.

Christmas morning. Empty kitchen. My granddaughter's card sits unopened. like her mother, she doesn't visit anymore. I'm stirring cookie dough nobody will eat. The house feels bigger now. quieter. Sometimes healing tastes like sugar cookies and solitude.

You think you'll start living once you get that house, that car, that perfect job. But life isn't waiting for your perfect moment. It's happening right now, while you're making all these plans for 'someday.'

A old man saw his children fighting over food. He took three plates and gave them different amounts. They complained. Then he mixed all food together and divided equally. He told them, when you share things, everybody gets happy.

When I was young, we had this neighbor, very, very kind woman. She would come over and help with the garden work, and her children played in our yard. But times were different then, and people worked harder in those days, helping each other more.

And when I was young, maybe about sixteen or so, we had to work very, very hard in those days. The community was different then, and people would help each other more. My mother, she would always say that times were harder but people were kinder.