We all got holes in our lives. Nobody dies in a perfect garment.
There is no such thing as a complete lack of order, only a design so vast it appears unrepetitive up close.
I thought how we might have to yell to be heard by Higher Power, but that’s not saying it’s not there. And that is faith for you. It’s belief even when the gods don’t deliver.
You never know where you’re going to find the same thoughts in another brain, but when it happens you know it right off, just like you were connected by a small electrical wire that suddenly glows red hot and sparks.
Time was rushing around me like water around a big wet rock. The only difference is, I was not so durable as stones. Very quickly I would be smoothed away.
I spend my time dwelling on revenge and try to deal with the monsters crawling out of the ashes.
Numbers, time, inches, feet. All are just ploys for cutting nature down to size.
Money helps, though not so much as you think when you don’t have it.
Love. The black hook. The spear singing through the mind.
All of our actions have in their doing the seed of their undoing.
The length of sky is just about the size of my ignorance. Pure and wide.
Death is the least civilized rite of passage.
Our tribe unraveled like a coarse rope, frayed at either end as the old and new among us were taken.
By the time I was done with the car it looked worse than any typical Indian car that has been driven all its life on reservation roads, which they always say are like government promises – full of holes.
I truly think that you can’t go and stalk your material, you have to leave the door open and whatever chooses you, chooses you. You can’t go and wrestle it to the ground.
Be lovely and do no harm.
If life’s a joke, then suicide’s a bad punch line.
A woman’s body is the gate to this life. A man’s body is the gate to the next life.
What men call adventures usually consist of the stoical endurance of appalling daily misery.
People forget the good, because the bad has more punch.
I think one of the reasons to be here on earth is to finally be who we are, at all times – to know and be predictable to ourselves.