Life is a crap carnival with s*** prizes.
This life we think we’re living isn’t real. It’s just a shadow play, and I for one will be glad when the lights go out on it. In the dark, all the shadows disappear.
We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why.
Sometimes life coughs up coincidences no writer of fiction would dare copy.
Philosophers have debated the meaning of life for centuries, rarely coming to the same conclusion.
It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life.
I know life is hard, I think everyone knows that in their hearts, but why does it have to be cruel, as well? Why does it have to bite?
Home is where you dance with others, and dancing is life.
Get busy living or get busy dying.
The multiple choices and possibilities of daily life are the music we dance to.
People say that where there’s life, there’s hope, and I have no quarrel with that, but I also believe the reverse. There is hope, therefore I live.
Life turns on a dime. Sometimes toward us, but more often it spins away, flirting and flashing as it goes: so long, honey, it was good while it lasted, wasn’t it?
