If my life was pulled into the pages of a book, there would be coffee stains and wrinkles along the lines of that narrative. Because all I can wish is that the book of my life would be well read and well loved. Living within words and the sound of writing.

People omit the truth all the time. But inevitably you'll be forced to make something up to hide the absence of your honesty. Did you get into the game already a liar? Or was it something you made yourself into along the way?

From a lover to a life, the one thing you'll never get back is a moment.

My sister lived in the moment. She said she would love the summer only when it came and warmed her. But I lived and still live in the future. Where it’s warm when it’s cold. Where dreams are not yet reality. Where the sad people are happy. The only problem with living in the future is that everyone has died, including yourself. So your plans are fiction and your predictions are fantasy. Living in the future is pure fantasy. I think that’s why I love it so dearly.

We are not bound by time. But there are things we cannot speak of because the repercussions of particular thoughts can break lives.

Am I entitled to my ego if my ego has manufactured impressive results?

Live this life as gently as you would breathe in the seaside air. Then release all those dreams and wonders to the water. Keep breathing until you’re inches from where you wish to be. Then exhale, remembering that gentle life you grew up from.

The belief in their actions can mend constellations. The ambition in their thirst for knowledge can both create and destroy.

What is infinity? I haven’t a clue.But maybe that’s the whole point I’ve been attempting to explain to you.The fact that it’s not knownOr seenOr heard.Infinity is every person, every being, every bird. Infinity is a simple mystery.It looks like a mystery.Tastes mysterious.Feels like something completely delirious. We cannot imagine what this sound could be.All we can imagine is infinity.