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?
Life takes us by surprise and orders us to move toward the unknown – even when we don’t want to and when we think we don’t need to.
Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.
Life seems to be a process of replacing one anxiety with another and substituting one desire for another – which is not to say that we should never strive to overcome any of our anxieties or fulfil any of our desires, but rather to suggest that we should perhaps build into our strivings an awareness of the way our goals promise us a respite and a resolution that they cannot, by definition, deliver.
Life seems so vulgar, so easily content with the commonplace things of every day, and yet it always nurses and cherishes certain higher claims in secret, and looks about for the means of satisfying them.
Life itself is not the miracle. That pain should be so constant, that’s the miracle.
Life isn’t hard to manage when you’ve nothing to lose.
Life is too sweet to give up without a fight, don’t you think?
Life is so uncertain: you never know what could happen. One way to deal with that is to keep your pajamas washed.
Life is so fluid that one can only hope to capture the living moment, to capture it alive and fresh — not the ordinary moment of an ordinary day but the critical moment of human relationships. How to capture this oscillation within the prison of cold print, without destroying that movement?
Life is simple. Ale, women, sword and reputation. Nothing else matters.
Life is short, and truth works far and lives long: let us speak the truth.
