Certainly it constitutes bad news if the people who agree with you are buggier than batshit.

How'd you like to gaze at a beer can throughout eternity? It might not be so bad. There'd be nothing to fear.

Fish cannot carry guns.

Any system which says, This is a rotten world, wait for the next, give up, do nothing, succumb--that may be the basic Lie and if we participate in believing it and acting (or rather not acting) on it we involve ourselves in the Lie and suffer dreadfully... which only reinforces that particular Lie.

But the actual touch of her lingered, inside his heart. That remained. In all the years of his life ahead, the long years without her, with never seeing her or hearing from her or knowing anything about her, if she was alive or happy or dead or what, that touch stayed locked within him, sealed in himself, and never went away. That one touch of her hand.

She makes life over, he realized. She controls life, whereas I just sit on my can and let it happen to me.

Each of us assumes everyone else knows what he is doing. They all assume we know what we are doing. We don't.