We seem to be going through a period of nostalgia, and everyone seems to think yesterday was better than today. I don’t think it was, and I would advise you not to wait ten years before admitting today was great. If you’re hung up on nostalgia, pretend today is yesterday and just go out and have one hell of a time.
i’m a strong believer that not everything you do needs an explanation. if you want a tattoo, get one. if you rather stay home that night, it’s okay to miss that party. don’t forget that you’re living for yourself. you don’t owe anyone an explanation for your choices or preferences.
And at night I love to listen to the stars. It is like five hundred million little bells.
It doesn’t make sense to call ourselves ugly, because we don’t really see ourselves. We don’t watch ourselves sleeping in bed, curled up and silent with chests rising and falling with our own rhythm. We don’t see ourselves reading a book, eyes fluttering and glowing. You don’t see yourself looking at someone with love and care inside your heart. There’s no mirror in your way when you’re laughing and smiling and happiness is leaking out of you. You would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments where you are truly yourself.
It seems very safe to me to be surrounded by green growing things and water.
"We’re eye doctors."
"What’s something about the eye that most people don’t realize?"
"The eye doesn’t see. The brain sees. The eye just transmits. So what we see isn’t only determined by what comes through the eyes. What we see is affected by our memories, our feelings, and by what we’ve seen before."
“My parents were always fighting. They weren’t very supportive. I used to be bitter about it. I was caught up on how my life could have been different if I had better parents. How things would have been different if x, y, and z had happened. But then you get older and you realize maybe they didn’t have the capacity to give you what you needed. They couldn’t understand you, just like you couldn’t understand them. You realize they were dealing with their own disappointments. And you even start to think, ‘Maybe I could have been a better son.’”