Intensity of belief is diluted with age. But perhaps wisdom is in seeing our own failures, how we misdirected our energies? Nothing is entirely pure or sacred or certain as we grow older.

I suspect each of us uses the past to prop up the bruised present. It’s a clumsy try for the comfort of normality.

I wish I had the gift of religious faith. Sometimes I long to believe in a structured universe designed purposefully for mankind.

We have to live within the framework of our limitations and the mistakes we make. Argue with Destiny, but never try to wrestle it into submission. If you do, you’ll end up losing.

Stop trying to be a magician. The past won’t come back. It likes its safety in memory.

I don’t enjoy surprises that compel me to renegotiate my relationship with the past.