sdbrown

Sometimes we celebrate that here: the intellectual daring, rigor and artistry deployed to game complex regulations is, when viewed in a certain light, breathtaking.

In the most recent upheaval, the intellectual discovered that the masses no longer need him to gain knowledge: they know perfectly well, without illusion; they know far better than he and they are certainly capable of expressing themselves.

You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.

The last sentence of the memoir declares matter-of-factly that the mothers of his three children were better off without him. “I am honestly not sure how capable I am of love,” he says. “And I’m not sure why.

I want a soul mate who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow. I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth. I will do your windows. I will care about your feelings. Just have something in there.

You’re an interesting species. An interesting mix. You’re capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you’re not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.

Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Has it been five years? Six? It seems like a lifetime, the kind of peak that never comes again.

I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.

It is easier to fight for one’s principles than to live up to them.

There are dreamers and there are realists in this world. You’d think the dreamers would find the dreamers and the realists would find the realists but more often than not the opposite is true. You see, the dreamers need the realists to keep them from soaring too close to the sun. And the realists? Well, without the dreamers, they might never get off the ground.