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My face grew thoughtful. During that time period, normally that would mean I was contemplating whether occasionally biting my cheek technically made me a cannibal.
She could have said, “Charlie, could you hold this for me while I walk around the grounds?” then offered her hand back to him.
"One of the greatest tragedies of life is knowing how many people in the world are made to soar, paint, sing or steer— except they never get the chance to find out. Whenever one discover a moment of joy, beauty enters the world. Human beings, we can't create energy; we can only harness it. We can't create matter; we can only shape it. We can't even create life; we can only nurture it. But we can create light. This is one of the ways. The effervescence of purpose discovered."
With a few tips, he wasn’t so boring after all. Secretly, I’ll tell you that you aren’t either. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to lower your value.
Don’t trust them. They know they can’t afford you otherwise.
If you want to ruin Captain Crow’s day, point out that she made someone happy. If you want to ruin her entire week, point out that she did it by accident.
She decided not to cry. Crying would be utterly impractical. So it was settled. Absolutely no crying.
Her eyes vetoed the resolution.
Indeed, the path to a life without empathy is a long and painful one, full of bartered humanity sold at a steep discount.
Enjoy memories, yes, but don't be a slave to who you wish you once had been. Those memories aren't alive. You are.
More twisted than a librarian’s love life (trust me, they’re a strange bunch).
Beyond that, memories have a way of changing on us. Souring or sweetening over time – like a brew we drink, then recreate later by taste, only getting the ingredients mostly right. You can’t taste a memory without tainting it with who you have become. That inspires me. We each make our own lore, our own legends, every day. Our memories are our ballads, and if we tweak them a little with every performance... well, that's all in the name of good drama. The past is boring anyway. We always pretend the ideals and the culture of the past have aged like wine, but in truth, the ideas of the past tend to age more like biscuits. They simply get stale."