Tennis's beauty's infinite roots are self-competitive. You compete with your own limits to transcend the self in imagination and execution. Disappear inside the game: break through limits: transcend: improve: win.

The sun like a sneaky keyhole view of hell.

An ad that pretends to be art is – at absolute best – like somebody who smiles warmly at you only because he wants something from you.

Try to let what is unfair teach you.

You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't.

I've noticed that, while I can't help but respect and sort of envy the moral nerve of people who truly do not care what others think of them, people like this also make me nervous, and I tend to do my admiring from a safe distance.

You get to decide what to worship.