They make an inner desert and they call it inner peace.
Identity, that spectator of what he calls himself,
That net and aggregate of energies in transient combination.
Knowing that we are not well, we hastily conclude that we are ill.
We speak of death, yet dying is all we know.
Fear, uncertainty, and doubt look like sound epistemic principles to me.
A better version of oneself will be someone else.
Noble deeds, performed without regard for reputation or reward, would be more common if there was just some way to get the word out.
We all want different things, at different times, in different circumstances — this is the source of the great paradoxes of human nature.
We are rich, and adapted to be poor, and thus miserable.
The Off button has grown smaller, and scarcer, and harder to find; soon it will disappear.
Pedantry begins as a parasite on fastidiousness, and eventually destroys its host.