Whatever I will become will be what God has chosen for me.
Have your adventures, make your mistakes, and choose your friends poorly – all these make for great stories.
You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.
You can keep the body as well-oiled and receptive as possible, but whether you’re actually going to be able to go for the long haul is really not your own choice.
We have a choice about how we take what happens to us in our life and whether or not we allow it to turn us. We can become consumed by hate and darkness, or we’re able to regain our humanity somehow, or come to terms with things and learn something about ourselves.
We betray ourselves into smallness when we think the little choices of each day are trivial.
There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them.
The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.
People say I make strange choices, but they’re not strange for me. My sickness is that I’m fascinated by human behavior, by what’s underneath the surface, by the worlds inside people.
Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.
I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.
As a science of the unconscious it is a therapeutic method, in the grand style, a method overarching the individual case. Call this, if you choose, a poet’s utopia.
