And be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.

Life's too slippery for books, Clarice; anger appears as lust, lupus presents as hives.

In her way, she was a hard one. Faith in any sort of natural justice was nothing but a night light; she knew of that. Whatever she did, she would end the same way with everyone does: flat on her back with a tube in her nose, wondering, "Is this all?

And be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.

One quality in a person doesn't rule out any other quality. They can exist side by side, good and terrible. Socrates said it a lot better.

He was numb except for dreading the loss of numbness.

There is a common emotion we all recognize and have not yet named -- the happy anticipation of being able to feel contempt.