And the thoughts still flow...
..and sometimes my friend, the love that I have, and can't give to you, crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.
In this way justice is done...because justice is a judgment that is both fair and forgiving...justice is not only the way we punish those who do wrong. It is also the way we try to save them.
I pushed through alone to the slap and sting of sunlight outside the airport, intoxicated with the exhilaration of escape: another wall scaled, another border crossed, another day and night to run and hide
My heart thumped under the command of the new climate. Each breath was an angry little victory... the choking humidity makes amphibians of us all.
I tried to fix my eyes on the clear and perfect stars of that fated night's black heaven, but again and again my concentration lapsed, and I found myself staring at the dark edge of the plateau. And I knew, in the way we know without a word that love is lost or in the sudden, sure way we know that a friend is false...
If you stare into its cold dead eye, the camera always mocks you with the truth...It was impossible to tell from that photo how much those men had loved to laugh, and how readily they'd smiled...only my own eyes stared back at me as I held the picture in my bandaged hands, and remembered the names of the men leaning together in the ragged lines."
Truth is a bully that we all pretend to like.
I don’t know what frightens me more, the power that crushes us, or our endless ability to endure it.
Some of the worst wrongs, were caused by people who tried to change things.
It's forgiveness that makes us what we are. Without forgiveness, our species would've annihilated itself in endless retributions. Without forgiveness, there would be no history. Without that hope, there would be no art, for every work of art is in some way an act of forgiveness. Without that dream, there would be no love, for every act of love is in some way a promise to forgive. We live on because we can love, and we love because we can forgive.
One of the ironies of courage and why we prize it so highly, is that we find it easier to be brave for someone else than we do for ourselves alone.
The tendency towards complexity has carried the universe from almost perfect simplicity to the kind of complexity that we see around us, everywhere we look.
The universe is always doing this. It is always moving from the simple to the complex.
Happiness is a myth. It was invented to make us buy things.
The only time he ever stopped hating himself was when the risk he faced became so great that he acted without thinking or feeling anything at all.
Heroin is a sensory deprivation tank for the soul.
Floating on the dead sea of the drug stone, there's no sense of pain, no regret or shame, no feelings of guilt or grief, no depression and no desire. The sleeping universe enters and envelops every atom of existence. Insensible stillness and peace disperse fear and suffering. Thoughts drift like ocean weeds and vanish into distant, grey somnolence, unperceived and indeterminable. The body succumbs to cryogenic slumber: the listless heart beats faintly, and breathing slowly fades to random whispers. Thick nirvanic numbness clogs the limbs, and downward, deeper, the sleeper slides and glides towards oblivion, the perfect and eternal stone.
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