everything will be all right
April 2009
March 2009
“The comic and the tragic lie inseparably close, like light and shadow.”
—Socrates
“Fortunate people often have very favorable beginnings and very tragic endings. What matters isn’t being applauded when you arrive—for that is common—but being missed when you leave.”
—Baltasar Gracian
“One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon—instead of enjoying the roses blooming outside our windows today.”
—Dale Carnegie
Play
Lies
I think it’s time, we give it up
And figure out what’s stopping us
From breathing easy, and talking straight
The way is clear if you’re ready now
The volunteer is slowing down
And taking time to save himself
The little cracks they escalated
And before you know it is too late
For making circles and telling lies
You’re moving too fast for me
And I can’t keep up with you
Maybe if you slowed down for me
I could see you’re only telling
Lies, lies, lies
Breaking us down with your
Lies, lies, lies
When will you learn
The little cracks they escalated
And before you know it is too late
For making circles and telling lies
You’re moving too fast for me
And I can’t keep up with you
Maybe if you’d slowed down for me
I could see you’re only telling
Lies, lies, lies
Breaking us down with your
Lies, lies, lies
When will you learn
So plant the thought and watch it grow
Wind it up and let it go
Glen Hansard from the movie Once
you'll have another chance tomorrow to be better than you were today
“We’re always attracted to the edges of what we are, out by the edges where it’s a little raw and nervy.”
—E.L. Doctorow
“In the twentieth century, one of the most personal relationships to have developed is that of the person and the state. It’s become a fact of life that governments have become very intimate with people, most always to their detriment.”
—E.L. Doctorow
“You can’t remember sex. You can remember the fact of it, and recall the setting, and even the details, but the sex of the sex cannot be remembered, the substantive truth of it, it is by nature self-erasing, you can remember its anatomy and be left with a judgment as to the degree of your liking of it, but whatever it is as a splurge of being, as a loss, as a charge of the conviction of love stopping your heart like your execution, there is no memory of it in the brain, only the deduction that it happened and that time passed, leaving you with a silhouette that you want to fill in again.”
—E.L. Doctorow
