We are all the same in that we all want to be different.

Greasy food might not be good for your body, but it does wonders for the soul. A healthy diet may prolong your life, but what would you have to live for? What is the point of living to a hundred if you have to subsist on bland food? One may as well die of boredom.

Why should I bring happiness to those I loathe by obliterating myself, when I can make them miserable just by existing?

As you go through life, you learn many lessons. Unfortunately these lessons only apply to the specific instances in which you learned them. Therefore you can expect to make horrible mistakes no matter how long you live.

Sometimes I wonder if, instead of falling madly in love, we should aspire to fall sanely in love. But then, what would be the point?

I hear what many of you are saying: We don’t have the time, we are busy. Well Nobody Has Time, Everyone Is Busy. In the time it took you to read this post, your life just got a minute shorter. That is precisely why we read (and why some of us write): because life is short and finite, we want more, and literature is the distillation of all those lives we will not lead.

We don't really have a movie industry; we have a trailer industry. The movie guys make five minutes worth of stuff to get people in the theatre, and eighty-five minutes of filler.