We spend so much of our lives doing math problems on how to feel good. It's such a waste of time. You're going to feel how you feel. It's hard to just set up a way that you're going to live your life that is going to be just endlessly happy and healthy. That's impossible.
It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.
... I'm the fortieth-ugliest man in this bar. But so what! So what! What if someday she lets me kiss each one of her freckles again? She has like a million. But every one of them means something to me. Isn't this how people used to fall in love? I know we're living in Rubenstein's America, like you keep saying. But doesn't that just make us even more responsible for each other's fates? I mean, what if Eunice and I just said no to all this. To this bar. To this FACing. The two of us. What if we just went home and read books to each other?
What happens in the heart simply happens.
We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.
Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.
The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate.
It is God's giving if we laugh or weep.
