Ego is borne of the need to ‘prove’ oneself instead of making the choice to ‘be’ oneself. And so maybe we need to begin curbing the birthrate.

Death is rendered tragic when it finds us having expended ourselves in the endeavor of having lived for ourselves. For when it finds us at the end of such a life as this, it finds us in the company of no one other than ourselves. And that alone may be worse than death itself.

Being our own god grants us the terrifying illusion that we possess sufficient power to bring the world around us to its knees, when in fact it will only serve to bring us to our grave. And sadly, the cemeteries seem quite full these days.

Living for myself ends at myself, and that is very small place to end.

Five of the most dangerous words I know: ‘What’s in it for me?

If I can’t quite figure out what an ego is, all I have to do is look for the thing that’s killing itself in the very act of feeding itself.

If it’s about me, I can be assured that there will be a bunch of empty chairs in the auditorium of my life; save the one I’m sitting in.

If it has anything to do with me, it has nothing to do with sacrifice.

I pretend to give gifts that people pretend to be gifts so that I can pretend that I gave something that actually cost me something. And what pretending or this sort gives me is the gift of a pretend life.