My airplane is quiet, and for a moment still an alien, still a stranger to the ground, I am home.

How is it we’re the lucky ones, living a life that the children-we-were took for dreams?

There is something that is transcendental about when we are immersed in that which we most love.

Why had such a promising world been crucified on the tree of obligation, thorned by duties, hanged by hypocrisy, smothered by customs?

You're never given a dream without the power to make it true.

Build an inner place to protect your truth.

Silly ideas, worth the admission price in smiles, but they're true. Is high-energy physics interesting because it's true or because it's crazy?