Logic, like whiskey, loses its beneficial effect when taken in too large quantities.

At birth, we emerge from dream soup.  At death, we sink back into dream soup.  In between soups, there is a crossing of dry land.  Life is a portage.

Not everyone’s life is like a house that belongs to him and that he can go on decorating ever more richly with the furniture of his memory. Some people live in hotels, in many hotels. The years close behind them like hotel doors— and the only thing that remains is a little courage and no regrets.

Written By Vincent C. Ven

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