feeling - probably for the first time in my life - the fear and excitement of living in a place where you never know what's going to happen or when.

We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.

It's not life or death, the labyrinth. Suffering. Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?

I hadn’t been in proper school in three years. My parents were my two best friends. My third best friend was an author who did not know I existed.

There is no Them. There are only facets of Us.

Like many people, I feel like celebrating. Remember this feeling. It is human, and can help us understand when others express bloodlust.

But I could always tell in her eyes if she got really pissed at me, and her eyes were still pretty smiley