Once the storm comes out, the landscape changes. What you had before is altered in some way. And you have a choice: build something new and better from what is left or abandon it.

detachment, n. Even when I detach, I care. You can be separate from a thing and still care about it.

Sharing truth is not the kind of gift that comes in wrapping paper - ripped open once and, there, you're done. No, this is a gift that must be unfolded.

That's the problem with having a moral code. We want to destroy the jerkish part of the jerks, but we want to save the human being underneath.

We switch to another language-- not our invented language or the language we've learned from our lives. As we walk further up the mountain, we speak the language of silence. This language gives us time to think and move. We can be here and elsewhere at the same time.

It is an awful thing to be betrayed by your body. And it’s lonely, because you feel you can’t talk about it.

I hope suffering don't exist.