False hope is the bread - and - butter of my existence, the only thing that keeps me going.

Like so many other office workers of the world, I will obey my master, the clock, and will obediently nod to my co-workers and make small talk about sports, kids and weather - all things I'm not genuinely interested in.

I wonder what the difference is between love and lust.

There has to be a better use for titanium than golf clubs.

If life is a journey, time should pull over at a rest stop sometimes - we should all be given a chance to get off and stretch our legs, collect our thoughts and reorganize.

Are people happier with a smaller range of experiences?

It's nice to have one worry marched to the wings and forcefully thrown into the alleyway.