“Today I am in control because I want to be. I have my fingers on the switch, but have lived a lifetime ignoring the control I have over my own world. Today is different.”

We are all made from star dust and we will all return to star dust, like a cosmic palindrome.

But that’s a side effect of alcohol, isn’t it? Stopping to think about other people is not on the bar menu.

You know that saying about how you don’t know what you have until it’s gone-I already did know what I had, and now that she’s gone, I know even more.

I knew not to give the best of myself to the worst of people.

I’m sorry, but I don’t get it. If we’re supposed to ignore everything that’s wrong with our lives, then I can’t see how we’ll ever make things right.

I’d rather feel something for real than pretend it’s not what it is.

Isn’t it funny how we live inside the lies we believe?

The simplest answer is to act.

Only you can allow yourself to be angry.

I didn’t think about anything past tomorrow because anything past tomorrow was just like cloud busting – it depended soley on the person looking at the clouds and it could rain any minute

Everybody’s always looking for the person they’re better than

But it feels good to love a thing and not expect anything back. It feels good to not get an argument or any pushiness or any rumors or any bullshit. It’s love without strings. It’s ideal.

I was also built from delusional optimism and folly.

I am equal to a baby and to a hundred-year-old lady. I am equal to an airline pilot and a car mechanic. I am equal to you. You are equal to me. It’s that universal. Except that it’s not.

The world is full of assholes. What are you doing to make sure you’re not one of them?

How can we say nobody’s perfect if there is no perfect to compare to? Perfection implies that there really is a right and wrong way to be. And what type of perfection is the best type? Moral perfection? Aesthetic? Physiological? Mental?

George had taken off all ten of his fingers and tied them into a bundle with what appeared to be either his own small intestines.

A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.

Good books put a finger on emotions that are deeply our own – but that we could never have described on our own.

A spiritual teaching is a finger pointing toward Reality; it is not Reality itself. To be in a true and mature relationship with a spiritual teaching requires you to apply it, not simply believe in it.

Since by it we reach up groping fingers to touch the hem of the garment of the Most High.

It’s liberating, on one hand, because you get to show up in sweatpants and with Doritos on your fingers, but on the other hand, it’s limiting because it’s just your voice.

Always keep a sharp lookout. “Keep your finger out”!

I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys.