All through the night I'll be standing over you. All through the night I'll be watching over you. And through the bad dreams I'll be right there holding your hand, telling you everything's all right. And when you cry, I'll be right there telling you you were never anything less than beautiful. So, don't you worry. I'm your angel standing by.

We can all be angels to one another. We can choose to obey the still small stirring within, the little whisper that says, 'Go. Ask. Reach out.' Be an answer to someone's plea.

We shall find peace. We shall hear angels, we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds.

We are each other's Angels. We meet when it is time.

"Who are they?" "Fallen angels who were not good enough to be saved, nor bad enough to be lost." For I am like them - both saved and lost, tumbling downward like Humpty Dumpty off the alphabet.

I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul.
When a lazy man, they say, looks toward heaven, the angels close the windows.
Oh angels, keep the windows open, so that I may reach in and steal an object, objects that tell me the sea is not dying, objects that tell me the dirt has a life-wish, that the Christ who walked for me, walked on true ground and that this frenzy, like bees stinging the heart all morning, will keep the angels with their windows open.

There are no stairs in this house and that means no angel ever on the seventh step.
But I'm twelve going on thirteen and I might be too old for angels.