I'm afraid my glass is no longer half full because I drank most of it.

Everything I do or say will be forgotten in a few short years. Yet how amazing and wonderful it is that somehow I still care, just simply care about whatever I do, and will probably do so until my dying moment.

If there were no nobodies, The somebodies would not have anybody, To convince that they were somebody, Except some other somebody, Who would not be convinced anyway.

Before I can accept someone's help, I must accept their presence.

It is said that in life we must play with the cards we are dealt, but too often I have kept those cards too close to my chest.

How often have I tried just hard enough so that I can then say to myself that I tried with the real purpose of assuaging my guilt about something I did not wish to succeed in the first place?

I feel that the only true security I have is my capacity, however limited, to love.