It’s always like you write a poem when you can’t really say what you’re trying to say.
In high school and college, I was an athlete.
I’m very proud of my Scottish blood.
Selfies, they call ‘em, and that makes sense ‘cause even though they’re sending these pictures to others, it still smells like selfish to me. Is that why they call it an “I phone”? ‘Cause it’s all about me me me. Like talking to hear yourself talk.
This is my religion – we’re all animals, perfect animals created in the infinite image and imagination of nature. It’s a life not without pain and competition and suffering, but it can be a life of dignity and mutual respect.
It’s hard to leave anywhere. Even if the place sucked. It’s hard to leave anywhere at all.
Then they just get it with their minds, intellectually, because if they got it with their hearts and souls, they would change, they would change and rejoin the animal kingdom and once again be proud to be called animals.
Hate is like a poison you make for your enemy that you end up swallowing yourself.
You can’t just wear the food chain around your neck like a bauble or necklace. You’re part of it and if you keep treating it with disdain, that chain will strangle you.
You think plants don’t have feelings? Maybe not the type of feelings you and I have, but they do have planty feelings, really slow feelings that unfold or blossom over years rather than seconds.
I’ve never seen a wild almond or a soy galloping about in its natural habitat, but cow milk is the best.
Humans have to earn the right to be called animals again.
There is something in man that loves a wall, but what wall menders and fence builders do not get is that when they fence something out, they are also fencing themselves in. Not one but two prisons are made by one wall.
Let things sit. Let things sit on your heart. You will learn of them by their weight.
And maybe digression isn’t really digression, maybe the shortest distance between two mind points is not a straight line. Chew on that.
I never saw it before. I see it all now. All of it. It’s never Mickey Mantle that kills you. Never Willie Mays. Never the thing you prepare for. It’s always the little thing you didn’t see coming. The head cold that puts you in your grave. It’s always Bucky Dent.” Ted.
What a strange god that instead of bringing people together, divides them.
Emer was troubled at how all interpretation now devolved in matters of race or gender or religion. There was no art anymore, even in children’s stories. Why wasn’t the crow female? Why was The Creator a He? Wasn’t Bald Eagle insensitive to men with hair loss? This is how we spend our time now.
Not one but two prisons are made by one wall.
I was confused at how people could mistreat and eat us on the one hand and then celebrate us on the other for qualities they admired. It was then I realized that humans were very complicated and confused and I could spend the rest of my life puzzling them out. I decided I didn’t have time to do that.