Marx called religion an opiate, and all too often it is. But philosophy is an anaesthetic, a shot to keep the wonder away.

After three years down here, I've not learned too much. But one thing I do know is that our bellies aren't big enough for revenge. It turns sour and eats you up. We'll get out, but we'll get out for the sun, the moon, and mothers, not for small-souled enemies, though we'll deal with them when we get there.

Understand this: we are both tiny and massive. We are nothing more than molded clay given breath, but we are nothing less than divine self-portraits, huffing and puffing along the mountain ranges of epic narrative arcs prepared for us by the Infinite Word Himself.

That wasn't me. I'm not a morning person. There's another person inside of me that does all the morning things.

Horace smiled. "Always breakfast like a man condemned. One never knows that a day may bring."

The truth is that a life well lived is always lived on a rising scale of difficulty.

Caves and darkness can't hold you when you die, they can only hold your bones.