Tears.

Those tine drops of humanity. Those round, wet balls of fluid that tumble from our eyes, creep down our cheeks, and splash on the floor of our hearts. 

Miniature messengers, on call twenty-four hours a day to substitute for crippled words. They drip, drop, and pour from the corners of our souls, carrying with them the deepest emotions we possess. They tumble down our faces with announcements that range from the most blissful joy to the darkest despair.

The principle is simple; when words are most empty, tears are most apt.


["Miniature Messengers" by Max Lucado]