Only through cat gifs can we subdue our fear of death.

I suspect the only true answer to pretty much anything is maybe.

First law of thermodynamics: any time a medication falls to the floor, it ends up in the most inaccessible space possible.

The older couple at the next table, whose lingering self regard stems from the memory that they were considered beautiful three or four decades ago.

All-purpose advice: wire now, detonate later.

He had attempted to make great art, always a mistake.

By April, life has killed you.

Standing at the back window, sipping coffee and watching the traffic light change colors in the rain. Your world is coming back to you. Soon it will all be too much—but for now you’re grateful.

So far below an acceptable standard that it doesn’t even qualify as failure.

At one celebratory banquet, Mr. Aldrin was breathlessly asked, “Tell us how it really felt to be on the moon!” Afterward, he rushed outside into an alley and wept.

A ghost in a dream in a story by an anonymous author on a deactivated account of a defunct social media platform.

Mistaking scale for importance,
ambition for significance.

The warm cascade of neurotransmitters he received from making false promises dwarfed the inevitable damage to its recipients. That may even have been some of its appeal.

He survived by expecting almost nothing while accepting almost everything.