comfort

"The person in misery does not need a look that judges and criticizes but a comforting presence that brings peace and hope and life and says: 'you are a human person: important, mysterious, infinitely precious, what you have to say is important because it flows from a humn person; in you there are those seeds of the infinite, those germs of love... of beauty which must rise from the earth of your misery so humanity be fulfilled. If you do not rise then something will be missing... Rise again because we all need you... be loved beloved.'"

there is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea.

Have a guest room. Make it more comfortable than the Four Seasons.

My body tingled with the need for whatever comfort (my parents) might be able to offer, yet I found I couldn't speak or allow myself to draw their attention.

Oh, the comfort -
the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person -
having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
but pouring them all right out,
just as they are,
chaff and grain together;
certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping,
and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.