I loved you and you destroyed me. You took my heart and ripped it up. You might as well have staked me.
Indecision is debilitating; it feeds upon itself; it is, one might almost say, habit-forming. Not only that, but it is contagious; it transmits itself to others.
Probably Hobbes got it right when he said that a leviathan, a third party with a monopoly on the use of legitimate use of force in a territory, might be among the biggest violence reduction techniques ever invented.
I might do something in Arabic. I might do something in Hebrew.
The person who sits at his or her desk the longest is not necessarily the best. In fact, he or she might also be the least efficient. It's also often the case that people with family responsibilities are particularly productive at work.
What is called 'capitalism' might more accurately be called consumerism. It is the consumers who call the tune, and those capitalists who want to remain capitalists have to learn to dance to it.
I pick up my guitar and play. Something might come, and then the pen comes out. Then an edit, until something comes out that you're actually satisfied with.
Why will I bury you? So that one day I might disturb your grave.
I think if there's a great depression there might be some hope.
It still might be a shock. To realize you are just one story walking among millions.
We need images and myths through which we can see who we are and what we might become.
If I can't joke about imminent death, then I might as well just resign.
We heal up through being loved, and through loving others. We don't heal by forming a secret society of one - by assessing about the only other 'one' we might admit, and being doomed to disappointment.
Here's the thing - if you stop learning, you might as well pack it in. You can't learn anything with your mouth open.
It is mercy that our lives are not left for us to plan, but that our Father chooses for us; else might we sometimes turn away from our best blessings, and put from us the choicest loveliest gifts of his providence.
. . . if I die suddenly, my gravestone might appropriately offer this insight into my departure: "God got tired. " I require lots of work.
How might letters be most efficiently copied so that the blind might read them with their fingers?
But puberty was. . . well, before puberty, at school, I didn't tell kids I was a transvestite 'cause I thought they might kill me with sticks, you know?
Cruelty might be very human and very cultural, but it is not acceptable and it is not an option.
Sydney might not be an expert in personal relationships but puzzles were familiar territory.
