Singles are your safest songs on the records. Ones that piss fewer people off, that appeal more to the masses.
It is less painful, it turns out, to feel betrayed than to feel forgotten.
Closure is just as delusive-it is the false hope that we can deaden our living grief.
Being present, whether with children, with friends, or even with oneself, is hard work. But isn't this attentiveness - the feeling that someone is trying to think about us - something we want more than praise?
When we cannot find a way of telling our story, our story tells us-we dream these stories, we develop symptoms, or we find ourselves acting in ways we don’t understand.
Psychoanalysts are fond of pointing out that the past is alive in the present. But the future is alive in the present too. The future is not some place we’re going to, but an idea in our mind now. It is something we’re creating, that in turn creates us. The future is a fantasy that shapes our present.
I want to change, but not if it means changing.
What do you think they're going to do to us when they find us guilty?" she says after a few minutes of silence have passed. "Honestly?" "Does now seem like the time for honesty?" I look at her from the corner of my eye. "I think they're going to force us to eat lots of cake and then take an unreasonably long nap.
I pull from a place within me that has ultimate faith in the meaningfulness and beauty of human life.
I'm drawing in my head pretty much.
I have always been confident that I would make it to the top.