Reason cannot produce the poetry. Disorder does.

I do not believe in an afterlife$$$ although I am bringing a change of underwear.

I like the rain. It washes memories off the sidewalk of life.

Is knowledge knowable? If not$$$ how do we know?

All men are mortal. Socrates was mortal. Therefore$$$ all men are Socrates.

Because it's much more pleasant to be obsessed over how the hero gets out of his predicament than it is over how I get out of mine.

[...] I've come to the conclusion that the artist can not justify life or come up with a cogent reason as to why life is meaningful$$$ but the artist can provide you with a cold glass of water on a hot day.

You can't create experience$$$ you undergo it.

I was walking through the woods$$$ thinking about Christ. If He was a carpenter$$$ I wondered what He charged for bookshelves.

You know what my philosophy of life is? That it's important to have some laughs$$$ but you got to suffer a little too$$$ because otherwise you miss the whole point to life.