
A man can’t cross a hundred thousand light years, mostly in other people’s baggage compartments, without beginning to fray a little, and Arthur had frayed a lot.
Hitchhiker’s Guide by Douglas Adams
Did we awake from the stupor that can consume our lives — lost amidst bits & bytes, screens & feeds — and find ourselves, as G.K. Chesterton once wrote, “in a street full of splendid strangers?”

The idea is not that we will win in our own lifetimes and that’s the measure of us, but that we will die trying.”
Barbara Ehrenreich
Stopping puts some space in your long haul. Rest is a way of being. Pacing is recalibrated care. ~Pato Hebert

It has always been the individual who calls the group to a larger vision, who insists on compassion and fair play. When the goal of the group ceases to be the individual, that group goes into decline.”
The Sun Magazine

Time is the essence, time is the season, time ain’t no reason, got no time to slow. Burn out the day, burn out the night, I can’t see no reason to put up a fight. I’m livin’ for givin’ the devil his due.”
Blue Öyster Cult

Forge your own path, trust in the magic of individuality.
Though the methods vary, the mission is the same: to realize that we are all of us temporary & fragile beings.
Shot here from who knows where, bound for who can tell, we can love ourselves and each other while we’re here.
Elizabeth Berg

A: Ah, when creation shows so much beauty, how radiant must be the source!
V: How can anyone today study to become a minister!
A: Your rationalism is as dry as dust.
V: I say that modern man believes in only himself and his biological death.
A: Modern man is a figment of your imagination. Man regards death with horror.
V: Religion for the people. Opium for the aching limb.

Methinks we have hugely mistaken this matter of Life and Death. Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance. Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too much like oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking that thick water the thinnest of air. Methinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me.
Chapter 3 – The Chapel, Moby Dick by Herman Melville