“These tools we love so much have burrowed under our skin like parasites...Making us smarter and stronger and always, always more dependent.”

“Women will always pay the price for love, that is why God makes us so much stronger than men.”

“Why do we love to grind our axes so much? How does schlepping that heavy load of medieval weaponry around affect those we encounter in our daily routines? What if it makes us more likely to provoke others?What is so appealing about grinding our axes anyway? Why is it so difficult to stop? How would we interact with people differently if we didn’t do it?What other tools might we cultivate if most of us were willing to lay down our axes, even just for a little while? How much more energy might we have if we weren’t so encumbered?What would you do with that energy?”

“For we are so constituted by nature, that we are ever prone to compare ourselves with others; and our happiness or misery depends very much on the objects and persons around us. On this account, nothing is more dangerous than solitude: there our imagination, always disposed to rise, taking a new flight on the wings of fancy, pictures to us a chain of beings of whom we seem the most inferior.”

“Love is always meant to be. Always, always, always. It is our sin, our folly, our feeble eyes that lead us astray. But love... love is love. Beyond us. Otherworldly. Godly. We capture a bit of the heavenly and hold it close and then it escapes us. We are so foolish, letting it depart! That is when tragedy occurs. Love...love is always meant to be. It may escape us, but it hovers nearby, waiting to be recaptured, held close.”

“Love is like liquor, the drunker and more impotent you are, the stronger and smarter you think yourself and the surer you are of your rights.”