“I would rather die of passion than of boredom.”

“I would rather die of passion than of boredom.”

Vincent van Gogh
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Life is a journey, and if you fall in love with the journey, you will be in love forever.

Condemn none: if you can stretch out a helping hand, do so. If you cannot, fold your hands, bless your brothers, and let them go their own way.

Defeat is not the worst of failures. Not to have tried is the true failure

In order to carry a positive action, we must develop a positive vision.

Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.

Treat the earth well: It was not given to you by your parents It was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.

Life is a journey, and if you fall in love with the journey, you will be in love forever.

Condemn none: if you can stretch out a helping hand, do so. If you cannot, fold your hands, bless your brothers, and let them go their own way.

Defeat is not the worst of failures. Not to have tried is the true failure

In order to carry a positive action, we must develop a positive vision.

Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.

Treat the earth well: It was not given to you by your parents It was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.