Perhaps our brains weren’t designed for developing an understanding of the universe any more than our fingers were designed for typing on a keyboard.

I wonder sometimes whether it matters what i believe, aside from how it affects what i say and do. But are the things I say and do determined by my beliefs, or are my beliefs determined by the things I say and do?

No narrative captures the entire story.

I’m not a fan of the narrative that we’re all vivid and passionate wild things who should hope to burn out brightly, expressing individuality and energy.

I’d prefer a narrative that included some hope of dignity; that restraint, too, can be natural; that rebellion and raucousness lose their charm; that goodness might be more important than beauty.

That all of this matters.

Each life is a tragedy, eventually ending in downfall and unfulfilled dreams. Fortunately, each life is also a comedy, culminating in hundreds of happy endings, temporary as they are.

I’d like to keep reminding myself that these are not different lives.