Writes all the things. Most of the things never write back.
Going outside right now is like a sunlit stroll on a warm, sandy beach.
Except it’s dark, and cloudy enough to obscure the waxing gibbous moon, and it’s 31 degrees out, and that’s granular snow, not sand, under my feet, which are wearing boots, not sandals or barefoot.
Other than that, exactly the same.
I took out books from Schrödinger’s library, and now if I know where they are, I don’t know when they are due.
I was going to have dinner with my friend Schroedinger tonight until I realized that I could know where I was to meet him or when, but not both.
I can’t get the rest of 2012 done in the next 40 minutes. Can I file for an extension?
“If we couldn’t get strong from what we lose, and what we miss, and what we want and can’t have, then we couldn’t ever get strong enough.”
― John Irving, The Hotel New Hampshire
We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are.
~The Talmud
If you didn’t say goodbye to summer with Labor Day, and you didn’t say goodbye to summer last Saturday, when we hit the equinox, you may be saying goodbye to summer today with the last day of September. October is many glorious things, but summer it is not.
This may be the first full day of fall, but summer yet lives when I can go outside on a late Sunday afternoon and hear the sounds of the ice cream truck’s music in the air.
Over time, today’s horror becomes tomorrow’s tragedy becomes next week’s sorrow becomes next year’s sad memory becomes just another date in history.
“…if September is no different from June, July, and August, then we’re doing something wrong.”
– Mitch Albom