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I’m not afraid of dying; I’m afraid of living.
A working brain is probably a lot like a map, where anybody can get from one place to another on the freeways. It’s the nonworking brains that get blocked, that have dead ends, that are under construction like mine.
I’m done with those; regrets are an excuse for people who have failed.
I don’t owe people anything, and I don’t have to talk to them any more than I feel I need to.

