If I continually focus on what I don’t have, my life will always be completely empty despite the fact that it’s completely full.

The opinion that is void of fact is given birth at the hands of the person void of thought.

Sometimes life abruptly opens up in ways so vast that it engulfs all of our constructs and theories and beliefs in the swiftness of that single moment. At times such as these, life does nothing less than demand a brutally exacting reconstruction of everything that we’ve expended the raw essence of our lives constructing.

I always say that my agenda is sufficiently gracious to leave more than ample room for the agenda of others. But if that’s the case, why is it that such a big room only has space for one chair?