We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art--we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.
The impetus to grow and live intensely is so powerful in me I cannot resist it. I will work, I will love my husband, but I will fulfill myself.
Some people read to confirm their own hopelessness. Others read to be rescued from it.
Houses turn to corpses overnight when we cease to live and love in them.
We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection.
The earth is heavy and opaque without dreams.