My cat knows the meaning of life, but has no interest in sharing the secret.

I hope I can settle my internal conflicts without bloodshed.

The whole world is our dining room, but be careful: it is also our garbage can

I've learned to accept birth and death . . . but sometimes I still worry about what lies between.

I hope I never become so used to the world that it no longer seems wonderful.

What could possibly be more fantastic than reality?

To always hit the target, throw a dart, then call whatever you hit the target.