There is no need searching for love, it cannot be found-it happens!

He tried to get drunk, “to forget about life for awhile,” as that oldBilly Joel song once said, but the scotch couldn't anesthetize his painand provide a retreat from the reality of his latest failures.

Sadly, in too many cases surrender is having been ‘outrun’ by fear rather than having ‘run out’ of heart.

Comfort is a stance of avoidance rather than the pursuit of excellence.

If I’m chasing the wrong thing, what I’m chasing will end up chasing me. And in the end, I’m less likely to be the one doing the catching.

A lion will only retreat if you stare it in the eyes; likewise, so will fear.

The land is always there...It is you who has to return.

The dark might be dark, but at least we don’t have to look at ourselves when we’re standing in it.

Apathy is giving up when we need to get up.

Think about it: If you have saved just enough to have your own house, your own car, a modicum of income to pay for food, clothes, and a few conveniences, and your everyday responsibilities start and end only with yourself… You can afford not to do anything outside of breathing, eating, and sleeping.Time would be an endless, white blanket. Without folds and pleats or sudden rips. Monday would look like Sunday, going sans adrenaline, slow, so slow and so unnoticed. Flowing, flowing, time is flowing in phrases, in sentences, in talk exchanges of people that come as pictures and videos, appearing, disappearing, in the safe, distant walls of Facebook.Dial fast food for a pizza, pasta, a burger or a salad. Cooking is for those with entire families to feed. The sala is well appointed. A day-maid comes to clean. Quietly, quietly she dusts a glass figurine here, the flat TV there. No words, just a ho-hum and then she leaves as silently as she came. Press the shower knob and water comes as rain. A TV remote conjures news and movies and soaps. And always, always, there’s the internet for uncomplaining company.Outside, little boys and girls trudge along barefoot. Their tinny, whiny voices climb up your windowsill asking for food. You see them. They don’t see you. The same way the vote-hungry politicians, the power-mad rich, the hey-did-you-know people from newsrooms, and the perpetually angry activists don’t see you. Safely ensconced in your tower of concrete, you retreat. Uncaring and old./HOW EASY IT IS NOT TO CARE.