When you look at it that way, you can see how absurd it is that we individualize ourselves with our fences and hoarded possessions.

What is it about silence that makes people uneasy?

If the culture doesn't work, don't buy it.

We have a sense that we should be like the mythical cowboy... able to take on and conquer anything and live in the world without the need for other people.

Grieve and mourn for yourself not once or twice, but again and again.

Everyone knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it.

Do I wither up and disappear, or do I make the best of my time left?