‘The cat sat on the mat’ is not the beginning of a story, but ‘the cat sat on the dog’s mat’ is.
Someone says: ‘Whom do you write for?’ I reply: ‘Do you read me?’ If they say, ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘Do you like it?’ If they say, ‘No,’ then I say, ‘I don’t write for you.’
Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than silence.
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
He took a piece of my heart, but that doesn’t mean my life has to be on hold. I can’t keep running after ghosts.
The gods envy us. They envy us because we’re mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.
One is happy once one knows the necessary ingredients of happiness: simple tastes, a certain degree of courage, self denial to a point, love of work, and above all, a clear conscience.
Having all the answers just means you’ve been asking boring questions.
Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again.
We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and — in spite of True Romance magazines — we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely — at least, not all the time — but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don’t see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.
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