Anytime I find myself looking down on something harmless that makes other people happy, I try to take a step back and look down on myself instead.
When only two plot points are known to you, the impulse to draw a line between them is irresistible.
You can't spell "let go" without "ego."
The trouble with fame, or its fuck-up brother, notoriety, is that it tends to amplify even simple pleasures and preferences into transactions. Once you're publicly traded, everything's an endorsement or a joint venture.
The only thing worse than false familiarity is false formality.
You can like all the same things as someone and have nothing in common with them.
Astronomers study variations in brightness. They watch seasons change on other planets. You get to know someone, you get to know their atmosphere. You can see their moods come and go even from a distance.
Nostalgia is often just a failure of imagination.
Love is true but it isn't always clear. It's a heady brew of cross-purposes in unlikely harmony. That's why, when it fails, it breaks down into things like resentment and hatred and sadness and anger, because all those things are contained within it, three hundred sixty degrees of contrary impulses buoying the heart in every direction—taut and shiny, a rising balloon.
On a long enough timeline the universe wins every staring contest.
There are people who happen to like us even though they don't seem like they ought to like us, whose friendships offer windows on lives lived differently, on other ways to be in the world.
Happiness that demands an audience isn't happiness—it's performance.
It is often said that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. It is less often observed, but equally true, that a lot of knowledge is an opportunity to be generous.
Apology and forgiveness aren't weakness. Anger is weakness.
There's the mean way and there's the intelligent way. The mean way is often also the lazy way and the intelligent way the humane way.
With some people you're just yourself. And with some people you're the best version of yourself.
Status is illness and illness is stillness.
People who constantly remind you who they are and what they do for a living are trying to sell you something.
Some days the light of the sun hits you in an unexpected way, finds you in a place you didn't think it could reach; and just like that all the doors, all the windows are open, have always been open, were never not open.
The problem with holding a grudge is that it turns your body into a sarcophagus.
If one is to enjoy the privilege of making fun of something, one must also bear the responsibility of having empathy for the thing that is being made fun of.
William Gibson once described cyberspace as a "consensual hallucination" but social networking is more like a consensual manic episode.
Forgive mistakes. Embrace that love is clumsy. Communicate without condescension. Let people go. Let people return.
It's not really romantic until it's doomed.
There's a difference between loving w-o-r-d-s and loving language.
If you're always winking, your eyes aren't really open.
As important as it is not to become a parody of oneself, it is equally as important not to come off as a critique of everyone else.
An ordeal is an invitation from the universe to rise to the occasion.
Something about the way the internet amplifies a signal even as it degrades it has a way of driving people to express even their most casual preferences and interests in the fervent, breathless argot of fetishism.
There's a fine line between celebrating and showing off.
Once you arrive at the truth it can't sneak up on you anymore.
After a while we discover that some of our beliefs are merely opinions—and a little later, that some of our opinions are just feelings.
The most insidious way to be mean to someone is to be extraordinarily kind to everyone else.
Sometimes we're on the same page. Sometimes our pages are just stuck together.
Commiseration isn't empathy in the same way that proximity isn't intimacy.
Sometimes we mistake fear for ambition.
As we get older, and time grows precious, empty gestures become costly.
Loving the same things isn't the same thing as loving each other.
Death may have existed forever but life has been around even longer.
Some people are memorable. Other people remind us of them.
An adult can forgive what a child can't understand.
A small bird alights the tip of a Mediterranean Cypress. The tree's entire column sways. The whole world seems impossible, possible in that idle instant. And then the bird is gone and the tree is still.
There are sunsets; and then there's watching … the sun … set.
If you can't love someone a hundred percent of the way they want, at least love them a hundred percent of the way you can.
Nothing matters as much or as little as this moment.
Drilling too deep into something you like is usually a recipe for making it impossible to enjoy.
There's no one cheaper than a person who's free with his anger.
Once, I carried anxiety in my chest. Today it resides in sidebars, on social networking sites.
Sometimes the only silence is noise.
I think I used to be able to appreciate condensed pockets of time. Now I'm greedy. I want oceans. I want eternity.
There's a difference between being faithful and being reliable.
Critical thinking is important; so is kindness.
People are entitled to their happiness, even when it's on our behalf.
Old sad songs that are new to me have a way of stirring long-dormant hurts.
There is a kind of intelligence that seeks footholds in other people's ignorance, that finds leverage in asymmetry and disequilibrium. The exerciser of such an intelligence often relies on the obliviousness of those closest to him to furnish his schemes, viewing their complacence as a form of acquiescence; but what intelligent, manipulative people seldom realize, for all their sophistication, is that it isn't always the absence of guile or worldliness that affords their movements trespass without notice; in truth, they have been observed and recognized: it is merely that they are also loved—and for all the things that love gets hung up on and obsesses over, there is also so much more that love accommodates and overlooks and even forgives. Sometimes we get away with things because we have willing, adoring accomplices.
You can't choose who you love but you can pick your battles.
One way to avoid forming a meaningful opinion about something is to avoid the thing itself.
There's a difference between trying hard and working hard.
Nostalgia is nostalgia up to a point. After that point it becomes a fetish. (After that point it becomes morbid.)
It's one thing to be a creature of habit. It's another to be a creature of possibility.