There are many words and definitions I have never lost. But some I am only just beginning to truly understand.

Are the details of our lives who we are, or is it owning those details that makes the difference?

Chance. It weaves through our lives like a golden thread, sometimes knotting, tangling, and breaking along the way. Loose threads are left hanging, but the in and out, the back and forth continues, the weaving goes on. It doesn't stop.

I don't want five hundred billion neural chips. I want guts.

There is something about her eyes. Eyes don't breathe. I know that much. But hers look breathless.

Multiple closets for different needs. Overkill.

Picture yourself five years from now. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there.