At one point I took on a new job, and I just didn't have time to do anything but work.
We have pain and hate and love and joy and war in the world because we want them.
Your past is just a story. And once you realize this it has no power over you.
I always really curious to see how people interpret things. I know my version, and I'm kind of bored with my version so I want to see their version.
The photographer in my head says: Give me peace. Flash. Give me release. Flash.
Let's all embrace someone near us. Pick someone special to you. Tell this someone how you feel.
The only reason why we ask other people how their weekend was is so we can tell them about our own weekend.
In this new, hyper competitive age, none of us, none of us can afford to be complacent.
You go outside with me right now, we'll ask twelve people on the street what they think about Jews. And all I need's one.
Like a saint's vision of beatitude. Like the veil of things as they seem drawn back by an unseen hand. For a second you see—and seeing the secret, are the secret. For a second there is meaning! Then the hand lets the veil fall and you are alone, lost in the fog again, and you stumble on toward nowhere, for no good reason!
It's not that there is no such thing as truth. But we come to like and trust a certain story, not because it's necessarily the most absolutely truthful, but because it's a thing that we tell ourselves that makes sense of the world, at least at this moment.