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Einstein should have spent more time investigating the uneven way that time passed in December, the supermassive black hole of the Gregorian calendar.
she willed her way through childhood following three simple rules: never cry in public; never ask for help; never, ever give them the satisfaction of knowing they’d gotten to her.
She had died. Not her. The other her. The original her.
The gulf between witnessing hatred and being its object was as wide as the ocean.
If she was alive, how could she also be dead?
Love wasn’t a given, it was something that took timing and no small amount of luck.
Why is it that the more I change, the more I need everything around me to stay the same? It’s a perverse design flaw in our species.
Complicated is only bad to the kind of people who need things to be simple.”
“In this country, power doesn’t derive from defeating a threat; true power comes from the fear of the threat. And maintaining power requires a continuing threat.
Most of life is lived to be forgotten. That was the way of things, cruel though it felt when it was your life that would be lost.
