I’m like a fish in a pool, turning quickly to avoid what challenges it. My only decision is whether to go right or left to sidestep confrontation.

t may not be the life you imagined, but it’s your life. You came here for a reason. Is it time for you to go and begin again?

Cause and effect are rarely directly related. Justice has a mind of her own.

You earn brotherhood—the purest friendship, trust, love, whatever you want to call it—moment by moment through how you treat others.

Silence has built walls, walls that I attempt to break by pedaling faster, only to be imprisoned a hundred feet down the road.

I'm learning quickly, once you quit one thing, it gets easier and easier just to leave situations rather than deal with shit.

Questions from earlier circle like buzzards. Am I running away or moving forward?

The waves splash against my face, carrying a message: Welcome, you belong here.

To exist here, I’ll have to become skilled in saying no—an art in which I was once well accomplished, but one I no longer care to practice.

Nothing worse than someone who goes to the dance, is excited to dance, dances all night, and then complains all the next day about his feet being sore.

I never get used to the faces--wide-eyed and full of possibility--staring bad at me.

When I am in balance with the vibration of my life, I am able to manifest what is needed, both for me and for others.

Science without respect for human life is degrading to us all and reflects a hollow and deceptive philosophy, a philosophy that we as a people should never condone.

I am not interested in the past, except as the road to the future.

The globe is shrinking, the information age is bringing a lot of changes. People are anxious about their future and their children's futures.

If you don't like your world, question your thoughts about it.

My parents are hippies, so I must have a bit of hippie in me.

Many desire to kill me, and many wish to spend an hour chatting with me. The law protects me from the former.

I think in reading a few sentences of text you can just tell the tone, and that's something I love in prose writers.

As a writer, my job is to think of evil ways to destroy the world and save it. What could be more fun?

The ordinary chestnut can beget a sickly and reluctant laugh, but it takes a horse chestnut to fetch the gorgeous big horse-laugh.