We are all dying to give our lives away to something, maybe. God or Satan, politics or grammar, topology or philately (…) To games or needles, to some other person.
This is why they started us here so young: to give ourselves away before the age when the questions ‘why’ and ‘to what’ grow real beaks and claws.
It’s always seemed a little preposterous that Hamlet, for all his paralyzing doubt about everything, never once doubts the reality of the ghost. Never questions his own madness might not in fact be unfeigned.
Everything takes time. Bees have to move very fast to stay still.
Psychotics, say what you want about them, tend to make the first move.
The integrity of my sleep has been forever compromised, sir.
Mary had a little lamb, its fleece electrostatic / And everywhere Mary went, the lights became erratic.
There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says Morning, boys. How’s the water? And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes What the hell is water?
Mario, what do you get when you cross an insomniac, an unwilling agnostic and a dyslexic?I give.You get someone who stays up all night torturing himself mentally over the question of whether or not there’s a dog.
The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.
There’s been time this whole time. You can’t kill time with your heart. Everything takes time.
I’m so scared of dying without ever being really seen. Can you understand?
Time wasn’t passing so much as kneeling beside him in a torn tee-shirt disclosing the rodent-nosed tits of a man who disdains the care of his once-comely bod.