The good life is the best preparation for bad times.
This is what it means to be in the middle of love, I thought. Being in the middle of love is like being in the middle of a war zone.
I was having an epiphany. A moment of supreme clarity, leading to what I dubbed a “realization of solitude” that goes like this: I’m lonely. But when I left that girl in the window I was sure I’d never felt more godforsaken in my life. There’s a big difference between being alone and being lonely. And I’m guessing that once you’ve discovered this distinction you can’t go back to solitary confinement without serious emotional repercussions.
I would have remembered the good stuff. Nobody ever remembers the good stuff.
He was waiting for something from me. Acknowledgement. Validation. Commiseration, perhaps. I couldn’t even look at him because I was afraid of feeling any more than I already did.
I was looking for someplace to store all the things I was feeling - the friction, the contradictions, the unmerciful truth - but my heart, my soul, my eyes and ears and even my toes were locking their doors. They wouldn't let me in. For safety reasons. I had no choice but to throw the feelings away.
Dreams can change histories and songs can alter destinies.
Why cat were given such terrific peripheral vision when they spend so much time looking down their noses is difficult to understand.
I left parts of myself everywhere, The way absent-minded people leave Gloves and umbrellas Whose colors are sad from dispensing so much bad luck
I always say, "If you see something is wrong in your neighborhood, go ahead and change it. Don't wait for somebody else to do it. " This is pretty much what I do.
Happiness, like health, is probably also only a passing accident. For a moment or two the organism is irritated so little that it is not conscious of it; for the duration of that moment it is happy. Thus a hog is always happier than a man, and a bacillus is happier than a hog