What if a girl grew up like a boy, with marriage an abstract, someday thought, a thing to think about when she became an adult, a thing she could do, or not do, depending? What would that look and feel like?
Making it up? said Marvin, swivelling his head in a parody of astonishment, Why should I want to make anything up? Life’s bad enough as it is without wanting to invent any more of it.
Aristotle once wrote that he who exceeds in confidence when it comes to frightening things is reckless, and the reckless person is held to be both a boaster and a pretender to courage.
Joy, love, freedom, happiness, laughter. That’s what it is. And if you just experience joy sitting there and meditating for an hour, by golly, do that.
