You gain power by pretending to be weak.

No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide.

Emotionally, in our minds, we get so filled with resentments where we've got a story about absolutely everything.

It seems that so much writing is being done in the nineteenth-century model, where every connection has to be thoroughly explained.

For six months I couldn't sleep. With insomnia, nothing's real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.

Some little part of themselves for someone in the future to discover. Maybe a thought. We were here. We built this. A reminder.

They're just words is all. Powerless. Vocabulary. Dialogue.