Home may be where the heart is but it's no place to spend Wednesday afternoon.

Have you noticed that only in time of illness or disaster or death are people real?

The search is what anyone would undertake if he were not sunk in the everydayness of his own life. To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something. Not to be onto something is to be in despair.

I had discovered that a person does not have to be this or be that or be anything, not even oneself. One is free.

If I had the choice of knowing the truth or searching for the truth, I'd take the search.

Why is it that one can look at a lion or a planet or an owl or at someone's finger as long as one pleases, but looking into the eyes of another person is, if prolonged past a second, a perilous affair?

Peace is only better than war when it's not hell too. War being hell makes sense.