life-and-living

Don't get me wrong, it's a good thing to be remembered. But everyday their memories get fewer, less intense. Certain aspects of the memory will become dishevelled, twisted into a form unrecognisable. Until finally the person still at the centre of your world moves on and all you can do is watch

If misfortune finds us, it will not find a home among us, for our hearts will give it no berth, as we birth the fortunes, misfortune missed.

Sadly enough, the most painful goodbyes are the ones that are left unsaid and never explained.

Honoring your feelings awakens your soul. Feelings keep you awake. And it is from that awake place, that sound, that you build your life.

Live your life as if everyone will discover what you do and who you are. If no one holds your secrets, there__ nothing to compel you to male choices that are not your own.

Dancing is about enjoying life. One of the hardest things for us to do is to dance.

The mystic, identifying neither with his-her race-religion-gender nor with any mind-made blunder, lives and dies in One's splendor.

End is not the End, in fact, E.N.D means "Effort Never Dies".

A questioning man is already half wise.

The last thing we want to admit is that the forbidden fruit on which we have been gnawing since reaching the magic age of twenty-one is the same mealy Golden Delicious that we stuff into our children__ lunch boxes. The last thing we want to admit is that the bickering of the playground perfectly presages the machinations of the boardroom, that our social hierarchies are merely an extension of who got picked first for the kickball team, and that grown-ups still get divided into bullies and fatties and crybabies. What__ a kid to find out? Presumably we lord over them an exclusive deed to sex, but this pretense flies so fantastically in the face of fact that it must result from some conspiratorial group amnesia. [_] In truth, we are bigger, greedier versions of the same eating, shitting, rutting ruck, hell-bent on disguising from somebody, if only from a three-year-old, that pretty much all we do is eat and shit and rut. The secret is there is no secret. That is what we really wish to keep from our kids, and its supression is the true collusion of adulthood, the pact we make, the Talmud we protect.

The people who believe in God are several types. When life gone crazy, nothing happened how they expected to happen, then some believer start blaming and scolding the God. Some start praying and chanting to the God. Instead of chanting, scolding, praying, blaming, etc. Start thinking on your life, what went wrong and how you can fix it. That will give you better future to your life.

For things to be right on the outside, they first have to be right on the inside.

I was used to being invisible. People rarely saw me, and if they did, they never looked close. I wasn't shiny and charming like my brother, stunning and graceful like my mother, or smart and dynamic like my friends. That's the thing, though. You always think you want to be noticed. Until you are.

Life can be impossibly tough. At times it seems like there is no escape from either the pressure or monotony of a world where you are corralled into being something or someone you are not. But there is an escape, to more peaceful and gentler places, and a happier state of mind.

Such was life that morning: nothing really mattered that much, not the good things and not the bad ones. We were in the business of mutual amusement, and we were reasonably prosperous." (pg. 18)

My life is ruled by four W__: my writing, my work, my wife, and my whisky. Not necessarily in that order.

A birthday is a glorious day filled with good laughter, gladness and great memories.

Yes, we were good at using the grapevine. But what we were best at, what we were really the kings of, that was buses and sitting around in bedrooms.No one could beat us at that.None of this led anywhere. Well, we probably weren__ very good at doing things that led somewhere. We didn__ have particularly good conversations, no one could say we did, the few topics we had developed so slowly we ourselves assumed they had nowhere to go; not one of us was a brilliant guitarist, although that is what we would have loved to be, more than anything else, and as far as girls were concerned, it was rare we came across one who wouldn__ object if we pulled up her jumper so that we could lower our heads and kiss her nipples. These were great moments. They were luminous shafts of grace in our world of yellowing grass, grey muddy ditches and dusty country roads. Yes, that was how it was for me. I assumed it was the same for him.What was this all about? Why did we live like this? Were we waiting for something? In which case, how did we manage to be so patient? For nothing ever happened! Nothing happened! It was always the same. Day in, day out! Wind and rain, sleet and snow, sun and storm, we did the same. We heard something on the grapevine, went there, came back, sat in his bedroom, heard something else, went by bus, bike, on foot, sat in someone__ bedroom. In the summer we went swimming. That was it.What was it all about?We were friends, there was no more than that.And the waiting, that was life.