Consciously Cultivate The Ordinary.

Since Grief Only Aggravates Your Loss, Grieve Not For What Is Past.

One Of The Peculiar Ironies Of Being A Human Self In The Cosmos: A Stranger Approaching You In The Street Will In A Second's Glance See You Whole, Size You Up, Place You In A Way In Which You Cannot And Never Will, Even Though You Have Spent A Lifetime With Yourself, Live In The Century Of The Self, And Therefore Ought To Know Yourself Best Of All.

You Can Get All A's And Still Flunk Life.

Hatred Strikes Me As One Of The Few Signs Of Life Remaining In The World. This Is Another Thing About The World Which Is Upsidedown: All The Friendly And Likable People Seem Dead To Me; Only The Haters Seem Alive.

A Repetition Is The Re-enactment Of Past Experience Toward The End Of Isolating The Time Segment Which Has Lapsed In Order That It, The Lapsed Time, Can Be Savored Of Itself And Without The Usual Adulteration Of Events That Clog Time Like Peanuts In Brittle.