Most people do not grow up. We find parking spaces and honor our credit cards. We marry and dare to have children and call that growing up. I think what we do is mostly grow old. We carry accumulation of years in our bodies and on our faces, but generally our real selves, the children inside, are still innocent and shy as magnolias.

Maya Angelou, who would’ve been 88 today, on home, belonging, and never growing up – her beautiful letter to the daughter she never had.
(via explore-blog)