If all our misfortunes were laid in one common heap whence everyone must take an equal portion$$$ most people would be content to take their own and depart.

The mind is everything; what you think you become.

The hour of departure has arrived$$$ and we go our separate ways$$$ I to die$$$ and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows.

Do not do to others what angers you if done to you by others.

For ridding oneself of faith is like boiling seawater to retrieve the salt--something is gained but something is lost.

In the end$$$ your past is not my past and your truth is not my truth and your solution - is not my solution.

I suspected my soul$$$ being mischievous$$$ might slip away while I was dreaming and fail to return.

I had no proof that I had the stuff to be an artist$$$ though I hungered to be one.

Within that moment was trust$$$ compassion$$$ and our mutual sense of irony. He was carrying death within him and I was carrying life. We were both aware of that$$$ I know.

What is the soul? What color is it? I suspected my soul$$$ being mischievous$$$ might slip away while I was dreaming and fail to return. I did my best not to fall asleep$$$ to keep it inside of me where it belonged.