The Eyes & the Impossible

Every reasonable creature knows that the worst thing any creature can do all day is think of themselves. If there are troubles in your mind, you should think first of the troubles of others; it is the essence of liberation. That is, freedom begins the moment we forget ourselves.

God is the Sun. Clouds are her messengers. Rain is only rain.

Sometimes in this life so much depends on one friend simply saying, Yes, we must do this. Or Yes, I see it that way, too. Or It is high time we do something great and grand.

if we expect life to be complicated, and life is complicated, then life is simple, right?

What monster would turn up his snout at the thought-through help of all the friends he had?

There are times in this life when I have been surprised by the words I say. The words that I should be wholly aware of and in control of. But sometimes they seem to be channeled from some other place—from the sky, from the past, from a nobler version of myself.

Don’t ask the ducks. The ducks know nothing.

day is think of themselves. If

Museum’s open,” a voice said above me. It was Bertrand. He was doing that thing where he flies right above me such that I can’t see him. No matter where I craned my neck, he would float left or right so I couldn’t see him. He thought this was the height of all worldly hilarity. “Stop that,” I said. “Stop what?” he asked, still invisible to me.

so we moved on. We told stories about ducks—so many stories, all ridiculous and impossible to make funnier—

To be alive is to go forth

the words, as I said them, were only distant memories to them, dust from planets long gone.

It seemed a clear truth that helping with anything or anyone at any time brought with it a unique kind of burden...No help is simple because no one being helped is simple.

Serene in this hurricane! And there were birds all around, but they were flying upside down.