Time is our element, not a mistaken invader.

The muttered hint, "Remember, you have a stroke here," freezes my joints like a blast from Siberia.

What art offers is space - a certain breathing room for the spirit.

When we try in good faith to believe in materialism, in the exclusive reality of the physical, we are asking our selves to step aside; we are disavowing the very realm where we exist and where all things precious are kept - the realm of emotion and conscience, of memory and intention and sensation.

Among the repulsions of atheism for me has been its drastic uninterestingness as an intellectual position.

If you're telling me I'm not mature, that's one thing I don't cry over since as far as I can make out it's the same thing as being dead.

The world keeps ending but new people too dumb to know it keep showing up as if the fun's just started.