Life-and-death. Lifedeath. One Event. One Short Event.

I Often Say That I Don't Worry About The Meaning Of Life-i Can't Handle That Big Stuff. What Concerns Me Is The Meaning In Life-day By Day, Hour By Hour, While I'm Doing Whatever It Is I Do. What Counts Is Not What I Do, But How I Think About Myself While I'm Doing It.

For All My Good Intentions, There Are Days When Things Go Wrong Or I Fall Into Old Habits. When Things Are Not Going Well, When I'm Grumpy Or Mad, I'll Realize That I've Not Been Paying Attention To My Soul And I've Not Been Following My Best Routine.

You Feel Like An Ant Contemplating Chicago.

I Know What I Really Want For Christmas. I Want My Childhood Back. Nobody Is Going To Give Me That. I Might Give At Least The Memory Of It To Myself If I Try. I Know It Doesn't Make Sense, But Since When Is Christmas About Sense, Anyway? It Is About A Child, Of Long Ago And Far Away, And It Is About The Child Of Now. In You And Me. Waiting Behind The Door Of Or Hearts For Something Wonderful To Happen. A Child Who Is Impractical, Unrealistic, Simpleminded And Terribly Vulnerable To Joy.

If We Could Just Figure Out How To Have More Fun At It, Maybe More Of Us Would Join The Ranks Of Those Who Seek After Justice And Mercy.