The right thing and the easy thing are never the same.
These are the kinds of things a guy thinks about when he visits his own grave.
It’s funny how you can live somewhere your whole life, but not really see it.
If you could imagine the color of anger, it had been splashed over every wall. Rage, something dense and seething, was hanging from every chandelier, resentment woven into thick carpets padding the room, hatred flickering...
We both loved her. And you couldn’t control who you loved, even if you wanted to.
We don’t get to chose what is true. We only get to choose what we do about it.
You’re so full of crap, you could pass for a toilet.
You’re incredibly, absolutely, extremely, supremely, unbelievably different.
In Light there is Dark, and in Dark there is Light.