I wonder how often it’s less about getting out of where we’re at, and more about giving ourselves the illusion that we’re trying to get out of where we’re at. And in the scandalous action of trading the fear of what ‘could be’ for the pain of ‘what is,’ we have traded away the whole of our lives.

To seek the praise of men as our motivation is to abandon truly great things, for more often than not truly great things elicit the ire of men far more than they garner their praises.

Although it pains me to admit it, I am quite familiar with the holes in life. And this familiarity is due to the fact that I spend far more time in these holes than I spend on the paths that brought me to them.

More times than I can remember I look around and I ask why the hole I’m in looks so strangely familiar. Probably because it looks a whole lot like all the other ones I dug before I got around to digging this one.

Every wall that would entrap me has a door that would free me. And I languish because the fear of freedom often leaves me preferring the familiarity of the wall.

Comfort is the antithesis of growth.

If I'm on the 'short-end of the stick', there's a really good chance that it was my shortness of vision that put me there.

The goal of comfort is at the self-same time the abandonment of great accomplishments.

A life that chooses not to grow is a life that died long before it ever lived.