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“You’re not missing anything,” she said. “It’s all the people you haven’t seen since high school posting pictures of their kids. Lot of libertarians with government jobs complaining about paying their taxes, for some reason.”
You can see there’s a twinkle in her eye, a slight sauciness in her gaze, that shows she had a sly wit.
The only way to be reliably sure the hero gets the girl at the end of the story is to be both the hero and the girl yourself.
Once you let go of hope, you never have to be disappointed again.
I’d finally figured out a way to game the system of being a human alive in this old broken world.
your foot against my shin, bone against bone. Instead, it felt like someone was moving just past me in a pool of water: someone else was moving, someone else pushing the water nearby.
What kind of feelings taste best raw? I like regrets on the half shell. Serve them on a bed of crushed ice with lemon wedges and Tabasco.
“sounds passing through sudden rightnesses.”
Just when you think you can’t expect less, you have to learn again to expect less.
“But you can’t love your enemies,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense. If you loved them, they wouldn’t be your enemies.” “That’s the point, honey.” “Nobody can do that. It’s impossible. The best you can do is just put up with them.”
Enlightenment is not a state, friends. It’s an unincorporated US territory about the size of Guam. I vacation there some afternoons.
When someone you love dies, you lose them in pieces over time, but you also get them back in
pieces: little fragments of memory come rushing back through what they cared about, what brought them joy.
Don’t let anyone shame you for your love of an imaginary friend. Religions have been founded on less.
New Year’s Eve, steam the new year in a pot of water with a bay leaf. Any months that don’t open on their own are no good. Throw them out.
Let’s ask ourselves if our desired outcomes are in alignment with our behaviors. My wineglass isn’t refilling itself, folks.
The world is broken, but you are not broken. Things may not be okay, but you’re okay, and you will be. I promise.
My greatest childhood dream was to be an author whom everyone would read but no one would look at directly, but I couldn’t figure out a way to write books without people knowing my name. (A word in your ear: I think I might have finally figured out a tiny loophole just big enough for me to slip through.)
My father used to try to tell me to never say anything about anyone that I wouldn’t want them to overhear. “It will make you boring in conversation sometimes,” he said. “Maybe you know something private about someone that’s embarrassing and you could say it at a party, make everybody laugh. You’ll have to hold yourself back from doing it. Give up the fun of getting that laughter for yourself. But if you believe that you’re called to never cause pain to another human being, it won’t be a hard choice.”
I’ve had a very hard time learning that lesson. I’m still trying to learn it. The mean joke is always right there at my fingertips. It’s effortless. Any asshole can make a mean joke. It’s harder work to reach out further for the joke that’s funny and can’t hurt anybody.
was in the market for an emotionally healthy and functional friend. You edged out a number of other candidates.—DG
If you’ve ever wondered what the right thing is to say to someone who’s grieving a death, I think this is it: Tell me all about your dear one.
Good morning, sentient chunks of goodness. We meet again for another spin on the old axis. Let’s see what we can do with this one.
When I find myself in need of great beauty, I close my eyes and listen, and it slips in through the side door.
I don’t mind an unreliable narrator, as long as she’s punctual.

