When a person first meets you, establish yourself as a simpleton—then people will marvel at your moments of brilliance later on.  For introduce yourself as a clever person, and people will more readily notice the failure of your wit.

We have the ability to predict what sort of life we will create based on what we do.  Otherwise no one would know how to make the life they wanted.  But we head towards certain kinds of lives, and this is what makes us responsible for what happens; for we chose the people to be with and the places to go.

The human must often sit and reason its way back to what is truly reasonable; we often incline socially and psychologically towards the idiotic.

Sometimes the mere suggestion of an idea is sufficient to convince a person it it true.  This is because given the way their life is, the idea fits perfectly, and was exactly what in that context they would have believed. 

A postive case is the greatest criticism, for it is a refutation of all other views.

We think more than just what we write—we have opinions and commentary on things we have said just like an observer would.

Hope you have a great weekend.

"Oh how I can't wait to be married!" the girl cried, "My wedding day will be wonderful.  There will be singing and dancing, and all the people I've ever known will be there.  My man and I will get to the altar, confess our true love, and then kiss each other passionately.  He'll be my everything, my prince charming, my knight in shining armor!!  Then we'll run out of the church as the people throw confetti, and we'll run to the top of a hill with a path running up it, and he'll pick me up and take me off into the sunset!—"
"—Now now," I interrupted, "Let's not get carried away."

Is it weird to sleep in your parents' bed?  It was just so comfy, like a massage that's hitting you in all the right places all the time.  And a wonderful blanket that was my best friend, and a pillow that welcomed my head to sleep on it like a kind neighbor for dinner.  Everything was white, so it was like sleeping on the clouds.  I slept during the day, and so the sun would glow through the blinds, like I was in a celestial cloud of comfort.  Every now and then I would wake up, I think, just so I could realize how awesome the place I was sleeping in was, and then I would clunk back to sleep. 

If it's weird, then it's the comfiest weird situation possible.  Snuggle-wuggle, yay yay.  And my parents weren't there, or else yeah, I think that'd be weird.

Sometimes it is nice to have someone who will just listen to what you have been thinking.  They might not even say anything in response; but even if it only means your life is not just stuck in your head, such a person is a wonderful thing.

Yet it is also the duty of the individual to disappear. 

We ought to try to maximize the good in the world while also making sure that no one knows that we are the one who is responsible.  Living a life of secret charity is the only way we will know we actually believe in what is good.

But to disappear is a hard thing to do; don't we all want to hear the applause?

That we are in the world to give up our lives for others is something I will profess to believe many more times than I will actually believe it; for belief is what you do.

The worst case scenario is that we miss what life is all about.

Sometimes I see numbers which say that by the end of life we will have watched seven years of television, or spent a year waiting in front of traffic lights, or will have spent much time doing many such things.  And this really does let us know how we fill our lives; inevitably, we will spend certain amounts of time sleeping, getting ready for the day, driving, doing work, paying the bills, making dinner, and many other menial things along the way.

So the question arises, when we are not doing any of the many things in life which we do out of necessity, what do we do?  What is it that humans do?  What do you do when it is just up to you to choose?

And that is when you realize the only rational people out there are the ones that climb mountains.  For there will be two kinds of people at the end of life: those who can say 'I climbed a mountain' and those who cannot.

For what will you remember about life if you never climb a mountain?

I can imagine a lone soul standing atop a mountain watching the sun from above the clouds, high above the place where mortals live their lives, just thankful that he got a life at all, even if only to look at the sun that one time.

Although it is also a good idea to bring a friend along the way.

The other night I had a horrifying experience.

It all started during the daytime when I barged into our study looking for something on the shelves, when I suddenly realized that there was a large spider hanging in mid-air in the middle of the room.  What impudence!  So I nabbed him with a tissue and a notepad, and wadded him up and put him in the trash.  Turns out I hadn't quite squashed him and we had a battle in the trash can, which ended with me beating down all the tissues with a blunt object to make sure he was dead.  Spiders are not my friends.

The hour grew late as I stayed up talking to a friend online, and I decided to switch to our main computer, which is in the study.  While sitting there, for some reason I glanced slightly to my right at one point, only to realize another huge spider was lowering down right on to me.  I jumped out of my chair and realized the clandestine attack which had been in motion while I chatted with my friend obliviously.  It must have been a relative of that earlier spider—the eight-legged devil was trying to avenge his compatriot!  An assassination attempt!  I then looked up at all the walls and realized how many cobwebs we had allowed to accumulate. 

I finished him off, and also razed the subtle spider kingdom he and his friends had been secretly erecting all over the room.  Although the terrorists have won in this case—whenever I'm on that computer I am extremely paranoid, looking up every thirty seconds or so, sometimes forgetting that t-shirts have tags, thus making me grasp at the back of my neck to frantically get the non-existent spider off of me. 

One of the bigger regrets of my life has been watching the movie Arachnophobia.  What sudden masochistic impulse compelled me to do so, I cannot remember.  

Anyways, the little bro wants to play, goodbye everyone!

I want to have a boat, or a ship or what have you, and name it Relation.  Then pirates will attack it, and I will be in the captain's cabin yelling, "I want to get out of this Relation ship!" 

I would hate dating a fax machine, especially if it liked to talk on the phone a lot.

I am sure someone died at the moment I was being born.  In that way, we are sort of like a tag team. 

The question "Is anyone sitting here?" becomes a very funny question when taken literally.  Sometimes I'll respond, "Oh, I can see invisible people, and no, don't worry, no one's sitting there." 

We don't need any more pandemics—what we really need is a pancake-demic.  That would be great.  International House of Pancakes is working on making this happen.  So while nations may be divided along political lines, ethnic lines, and religious lines, they won't be divided along breakfast lines. 

It's been a strange week: talked to a philosopher about dilettantes and irony, ate about five stopwatches in my dream last night, Laura Marling in my head, lots of logic to do today, maybe Risk tonight.  And that is what I call a montage sentence; it more accurately reflects the way we think, I think. 

Another day of life! Huray. 

"What's going on!  What's going on!" Darren was screaming,  "Where did the sun go??  WHERE DID IT GO?"
"Darren, whatever is the matter?" his mother cried as she ran to the scene while fastening her bathrobe.
"They took it," Darren said emphatically, "Someone took it.  Someone took the sun."
"Why darling, it's just night.  No one took the sun."
"WELL THEN WHERE DID IT GO?" Darren barked angrily.
"It's on the other side of the earth, that's all," Darren's mother said, holding her son while sympathizing, "Oh you poor baby."
"How could someone hide the sun behind the earth," Darren whispered quietly before belting, "WHEN THE SUN IS BIGGER THAN THE EARTH."
"Well, dear, I, I don't know . . ."
"LIES, ALL LIES, NO ONE TELLS THE TRUTH, AND IT'S BECAUSE THEY STOLE THE SUN."  By this time Darren was stomping around and waving his fists in the air like he was pounding on something.
"Darling," his mother reasoned in her soft voice, "it will be back in the morning, I promise."
"They shouldn't take it.  No one should have permission to do that.  I want the sun back RIGHT NOW,"  Darren said, screaming the last two words in a rough, shrill manner. 
"What about the moon though?  Don't you like the moon?"
"THAT TOO.  They not only took the sun, but they've been eating the moon litte by little.  There's barely any left,"  Darren said sadly, starting to cry a little.
"Well, don't you like it being dark for a little bit?" his mother asked gently.
"I don't mind it being dark, I just wish the sun were here," Darren pouted, as though his best friend had just moved away.
"What about the stars?  There are lots of stars at night, so it's like a whole sky of suns!"
"But they aren't real suns or else the SKY would not be DARK.  They are FAKE SUNS," Darren yelled, now angry again,  "And they are too small to be the sun.  THEY STOLE IT, THEY STOLE IT, THEY STOLE IT."
"Oh now dear, they're just borrowing it.  They will give it back in the morning.  The sun has other friends, you know.  Would that be very fair if you got to keep it all to yourself all the time?"
"I guess not," Darren accepted poutingly. 
"Well there there, just get in bed and go to sleep then, I'll see you in the morning."
"I still don't know where they hide it . . ." Darren muttered as his one last complaint before falling sound asleep.

We come to believe things through stories which happen in our lives.  So when there is some idea or opinion that some other person has, and we don't understand why they have it, what we really need is to listen to their stories. 

People are all contained, but those that have a big heart cannot help but spill over into the world.

How many galaxies are in your day depends on the vitality of your imagination.

How much of the universe do I control directly?  It depends how much I weigh at the moment the question is asked.

You can get as close as you want, but you will never be able to hear another person's thoughts. 

Arguing for your side might be the last thing that will convince a person.

If there were something deeper to discover about life than reason could show, a strict philosopher would never find it.

People come up with general statements about life based on what they have seen.  These statements, therefore, are descriptive of a certain amount of content that that person is thinking of specifically.  If several people have the same experience, they will find that descriptive phrase useful in referring to their own experience as well.  That is why people "like" a quote.  People who are good at writing are therefore useful for accurately describing and explaining the experience of those who do not have such abilities.

Okay, I guess we'll wrap it up, goodbye for now everybody!