Lying just for the fun of it is either art or pathology.

For many, immaturity is an ideal, not a defect.

Death promises nothing--not even oblivion.

My intentions go one way, my desires another. Thus I feel both self-indulgent and deprived.

When understanding would be too difficult, I become trusting.

Fortuna smiles and frowns according to a timetable surprising even to herself.

Sometimes the only way to become grounded is to hit bottom.