It is my observations, though, that happiness limits the amount of suffering one is willing to inflict upon others

Why is there ever this perverse cruelty in humankind, that makes us hurt most those we love best?

Pain obliterates everything else. In pain, there is only the eternal present.

All paths are present, always... and we can but choose among them.

Night breeds its own sort of anticipation.

Those that yield are not always weak

There are patterns which emerge in one's life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation of a theme