Fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.

Mental acuity was never born from comfortable circumstances.

Still, in the end, we all die just the same.

What was lost was lost. There was no retrieving it, however you schemed, no returning to how things were, no going back.

When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

She was, if anything, on the plain side, at least not the type to attract men wherever she went. But there was something in her face that was meant for me alone. Everytime we met, I took a good look at her. And loved what I saw.

If you can’t understand it without an explanation, you can’t understand it with an explanation.