Because who would ever want to get close to another person if they knew how hard the letting-go part was? In your heart they only die a little at a time, don't they? Like a plant when you go away on a...
Beyond the reach of human rage A drop of hell, a touch of strange ...
Can I? Yeah. You bet I can. There's a million things in this world can't do. Couldn't hit a curve ball, even back in high school. Can't fix a leaky faucet. Can't roller-skate or make an F-chord on the...
Death was no less a miracle than birth.
Few if any seemed to have grasped the Principle of Reality; new knowledge leads always to yet more awesome mysteries. Greater physiological knowledge of the brain makes the existence of the soul less...
If you were seeing a lot of horseshit, there had to be a pony in the vicinity.
My heart's with you, Bill, no matter how it turns out. My heart is with all of them, and I think that, even if we forget each other, we'll remember in our dreams.
People who try hard to do the right thing always seem mad.
Rich people can be generous, even the ones with bloodcurdling political views can be generous, but most believe in generosity on their own terms, and underneath (not so deep, either), they’re always a...
Silent white light filled the world. And the righteous and unrighteous alike were consumed in that holy fire.
Some things were better lost than found.
That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons, even death may die. —
That's clear about the end of my other life, how I kept saying 'I can do this' even when I knew I couldn't, even when I knew I was fucked, I was dead ass fucked in the pouring rain.
The good thing about being old, is you don’t have to worry about dying young.
The past is obdurate.
The scholar's greatest weakness: calling procrastination research.
There were people who lied for gain, people who lied from pain, people who lied simply because the concept of telling the truth was utterly alien to them . . . and then there were people who lied beca...
This inhuman place makes human monsters.
True sorrow is as rare as true love.
We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why. Not until the future eats the present, anyway. We know when it's too late.
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