All my life I've been harassed by questions: Why is something this way and not another? How do you account for that? This rage to understand, to fill in the blanks, only makes life more banal. If we could only find the courage to leave our destiny to chance, to accept the fundamental mystery of our lives, then we might be closer to the sort of happiness that comes with innocence.
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Sadness is hard like cold winter days. Rousing advancement, inspiring perspective, but can be just as easily forgotten or scorned like those wintry days. I like to embrace it deep within me, totally concealed. It only shows through impassiveness on matters diminutive. The more sadness I put away the better I recognize the secrets of contentment.
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There are some people, you know, they think the way to be a big man is to shout and stomp and raise hell-and then nothing ever really happens. I'm not like that I never shoot blanks.
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I like going to a school yard and watching all the little kids run and scream on the school grounds. Of course they don't know that I'm using blanks.
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There are some people, you know, they think the way to be a big man is to shout and stomp and raise hell-and then nothing ever really happens. I'm not like that ... I never shoot blanks.
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Crazy, how in life to really describe one end of the spectrum you have to be at the other.
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I shot my leg during a rehearsal! Thank God they were blanks.
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Life is truly good when you can enjoy the rain.
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