I don't like to talk about myself that much.
When I was little, I made up my own fairy tales, and the ghostly echo of Once upon a time shapes all the fiction Ive ever written.
Eating good food is my favourite thing in the whole world. Nothing is more blissful.
My father is a liar and so am I. But I’m going to stop. I have to stop. I will tell you my story and I will tell it straight. No lies, no omissions. That’s my promise. This time I truly mean it.
Zombies are the proletariat. Long live the workers!
I re-read The History of White People by Nell Irvin Painter. It's a book every one should read, particularly Americans, as the USA is her primary focus. Her book demonstrates that white is not universal, that white is not neutral, that it has a history, which she eloquently delineates. It's not often you finish a book understanding how the world operates better than before you read it.
Really, according to the shrinks, I am angry at everyone ever. Especially them. I am all anger and resentment all the time. Not one of them has ever suggested that maybe I lie because the world is better the way I tell it.
Marriage is not one point of view: it's a constant back and forth over different perspectives - a healthy marriage, anyway.
Some spiritual traditions view the moment of birth as a passage from a state of wholeness and knowledge to a state of forgetting. In this view of the world, we spend the rest of our lives searching for wholeness and knowledge, wellness and health-the balance and harmony we lost when we were born. If our wholeness is interrupted, then our health suffers, and we need to find a way to restore our sense of meaning. When we move in the direction of that meaning, we're healing.
Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
What nature requires is obtainable, and within easy reach. It is for the superfluous we sweat.