Wednesday Leftovers (1)

Many people carry around two certainties: that you cannot know what it is like to be them, but that they know what it is like to be you. The fact that there are rather obvious logical difficulties with this position in no way dissuades people from holding it.

The intensity of our reactions to things changes over time; if we are not careful, we may blame the things, themselves.

When observation tells you that you are a person who loves to argue and fight, you are well served to find constructive outlets for that tendency. Otherwise, you are likely to turn all your relationships into competitions, and that rarely ends well.

At some point in your life, romance and adventure go from “things you dream about doing” to “things you have always enjoyed reading about”.

Simulated living has become an extremely popular pursuit.

We dislike morality tales, but we want everything in life to be one.

Revenge is a dish best… read about.

There is no “i” in team, but you can “at me” with it.

Sorrow is part of life; if we grow up thinking otherwise, the most important part of our education never happened.

{ addled }

Believe me when I say the wind
Has blown away this warm regard
For all that atrophies but lives
Among the early daffodils
That wreathe the path of discontent
We walk upon until such time
As welcomes every sort of thread
In one large fabric warp and woof
And there it is.

Amalgamated perfidy
That's lost among the wild grass
The paths of where we meant to be
So long forgotten no one knows
Where they might be or ever were
But words are just as good as things
And images beat either one
When thoughts allowed are tribal first
And there we are.