Going from here to there.  Who to whomever. 

We just think we don’t know the steps to the dance.

Silence is exactly that.

Younger, young. Older, old. Which is ore? Which is less?

Weather is weather whether we like it or not.

My fountain is not mine.

Whaddaya talk? Whydaya talk? Talk talk talk. Talkatalk talkatalk talkatalk. Say more say moremoremore say more nothing say nothing at all.

A laugh is better than a fist in the mouth, a bullet to the head, or death at the hands of a mob.

Like buzz-buzz and nudge-nudge, Dude.

Others are not others. Neither am I.

Millions of us drink coffee or tea to start our day. Our day depends ukpon where we are.

If ‘what if’ ever happened, our predominant wonder is what would happen to me?If ‘what if’ ever happened, our predominant wonder is what would happen to me?

We have laid down our stick, hoping that someone else will pick it up and swing it for us. We have chosen to remain complacent in our comfort, ignorant of the warnings in our most sacred documents, that complacency is the coin of slavery.

He call himself Omelet ‘cause he know his life’s scrambled, an’, like eggs’ once scrambled, you can’t unscramble ‘em, and that be the Truth. An’ that’s why he know who he be.

We’ve all known ‘lovers and other strangers.” Lovers we no longer love or who no longer love us become strangers. Lots of times these lovers have hurt us, or we have hurt them. No one of us is immune from this equation.

You can’t tarnish gold, only brass, and that is what the golden rule has become – brass.

Your only hope of finding yourself in this existential void is to be just like everybody else. You have learned, if not anything else, the primary (and primal) Golden Rule: how to survive.

Our hormones were moaning too loudly for any of us to listen to anything else but songs that were truer for us than what any teacher said and for sure our parents. Never would we be like them. That was the one Golden Rule we all understood.

The movin’ part’s easy, but that’s not on. Nothin’ easy about on! On demands.

The seven stages of grief are just words, not experiences until grief happens to you.