We do not know what it's like to be a bat, we do not know what it's like to be in coma. we can't even say that we know what it's like to be sleeping. We can say what it's like to be restored to consciousness after sleeping. If there are no dreams during our sleep then the sleeping life is an empty life. We might say of such a life that it's not like being anything. We protect that life on the assumption that come the morning its normal functions will be restored. Suppose it was the case however that such functions were only restored every two days... every eight days... twice a year but only briefly. I assume the point is clear. Actions that end life are irretrievable. If we are mistaken at that point there is no going back.
It doesn't matter who you were or what you've done in the past. The only thing that matters is who you are right now.
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It doesn't matter who you were or what you've done in the past. The only thing that matters is who you are right now.
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He's the boy who smokes Marlboro cigarettes and I'm the girl who makes theater puppets. Dreams and ashes__wo things in the universe that should never meet because they are opposites, right?
I feel as though I should say something profound, or enact some rite, or trade something to make it official. I want to transfer some trinket which would allow me to say that she's my girl, some kind of currency that proves to people that she likes me back. Something that would permit me to think about her all the time without feeling guilty or helpless or hopelessly far away. I guess I'm just so excited, I want to cage this thing like a tiny red bird so if can't fly away, so it stays the same, so it's still there the next time. For keeps, like a coin in your pocket. Like a peach pit from Mad Jack Lionel's tree. Like scribbled words in a locked suitcase. A bright balloon to tie to your bedpost. And you want to hug it close, hold it, but not so tight it bursts.
It's fate, but fate just gives us a nudge in the right direction onthe fast lane, I guarantee she doesn't have her hands in your pockets while she's doing it
The universe doesn't hand out blank cards to play. You will know your hand soon enough.
Because your soul, on this soulless planet, sticks out like one star in a starless sky. And it__ beautiful.