Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too.

When you start reading nonfiction books about piracy, you realize that it's actually just a history of desperate people.

Just about everything in this world is easier said than done, with the exception of 'systematically assisting Sisyphus's stealthy, syst-susceptible sister,' which is easier done than said.

Every problem has a solution. Sometimes it just takes a long time to find the solution - even if it's right in front of your nose.

One cannot spend forever sitting and solving the mysteries of oone's history.

We laughed the rest of the way, because the point of this story is, it is not the cookies. It is the love.

Here we are at the bottom, almost empty. It's like confetti, these dried remnants you find in the street for a party no one invited you to. But they used to be, I can admit, part of something beautiful.