Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.
Sometimes the truth hurts. And sometimes it feels real good.
I have come to regard November as the older, harder man's October. I appreciate the early darkness and cooler temperatures. It puts my mind in a different place than October. It is a month for a quieter, slightly more subdued celebration of summer's death as winter tightens its grip.
Weakness is what brings ignorance, cheapness, racism, homophobia, desperation, cruelty, brutality, all these things that will keep a society chained to the ground, one foot nailed to the floor.
Yes, I guess you could say I am a loner, but I feel more lonely in a crowed room with boring people than I feel on my own.
It's sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew.
I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.
My optimism wears heavy boots and is loud.
Keep your blood clean, your body lean, and your mind sharp.
Hope is the last thing a person does before they are defeated.
The month of November makes me feel that life is passing more quickly. In an effort to slow it down, I try to fill the hours more meaningfully.
We all learn lessons in life. Some stick, some don't. I have always learned more from rejection and failure than from acceptance and success.
You need a little bit of insanity to do great things.
Voting is completely important. People in America think democracy is a given. I think of it as an ecosystem, and what gets in the way of it is politicians and apathy.
Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on.
Everyone who knows me knows that I'm a hopeless romantic who listens to love ballads and doo-wop songs all the time.
Don't do anything by half. If you love someone, love them with all your soul. When you go to work, work your ass off. When you hate someone, hate them until it hurts.
When you are young, there is so much ahead of you, it's like the Saharan desert. You can't even see across it.
I am on until I am dead, like a light bulb.
We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer's wreckage. We will welcome summer's ghost.
