The things you own end up owning you.
It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to anything.
If you died right now, how would you feel about your life?
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect. I say… let’s evolve. Let the chips fall where they may.
You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
You are not special. You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake, you are the same decaying organic matter as everything else, we are all part of the same compost heap.
We’re consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don’t concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy’s name on my underwear.
Reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions.
Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives.
This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.
You wanna make an omelet, you gotta break some eggs.
Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing. Like the first monkey shot into space.
Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God?
You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen. We don’t need him!