Eyes. Those damn eyes fucked me forever.

You were born an original.
Don’t die a copy.

Update on the pants situation:

I only managed to throw away 17 pairs. So that still means I have 33 pairs.

Is that a reasonable number? Emily doesn’t know.

In other news why has my ‘read more’ option disappeared? Maybe the world doesn’t want to know about my pants.

Sorting out my underwear drawer and I have 50 PAIRS OF PANTS EXACTLY!!!

Nobody needs 50 pairs…

There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs, and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly. Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life, it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.

The moment you become miserly you are closed to the basic phenomenon of life: expansion, sharing. The moment you start clinging to things, you have missed the target—you have missed. Because things are not the target, you, your innermost being, is the target—not a beautiful house, but a beautiful you; not much money, but a rich you; not many things, but an open being, available to millions of things.