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

The reason men rule is because women let them.

We like to look for patterns and find connections in unrelated events. This way we can explain them to ourselves. Life seems neater, or at least less messy. We need to feel we are in control: it is integral to our self-esteem. We also know, though we deny it, that we are not in control. So we settle for the illusions of control. What if we stopped fooling ourselves?

We read because we are essentially alone.

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.

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

We have no control over fate and history, but we can control how we conduct ourselves in this life.