I collect records. And cats. I don't have any cats right now. But if I'm taking a walk and I see a cat, I'm happy.

Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.

They put up with such strenuous training, and where did their thoughts, their hopes and dreams, disappear to? When people pass away, do their thoughts just vanish?

If you do anything out of the ordinary, you can be sure someone, somewhere, will get upset.

We're both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We're connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.

It seemed to me that this world has a serious shortage of both logic and kindness.

As with marathon runs and lengths of toilet paper, there had to be standards to measure up to.