The moment that judgement stops through acceptance of what it is, you are free of the mind. You have made room for love, for joy, for peace.

It's so stupid because all I wanted was space and now that I have it, there's this part of me that's achingly lonely I could die.

We, all of us, are what happens when a primordial mixture of hydrogen and helium evolves for so long that it begins to ask where it came from.

My whore of a brother has done it again." "Then, as always, orders me to clean up the mess." "I think I hate him." Poseidon to his brother, Zeus.

You know that song, 'Woodstock.' It says 'We are stardust.' And we are. We come from stardust. Everything on earth is just ashes.

I'm choosing happiness over suffering, I know I am. I'm making space for the unknown future to fill up my life with yet-to-come surprises.

By looking far out into space we are also looking far back into time, back toward the horizon of the universe, back toward the epoch of the Big Bang.

Once upon a time, we soared into the Solar System. For a few years. Then we hurried back. Why? What happened? What was 'Apollo' really about?

I looked not for shooting stars but for fixed ones, and I would try to imagine what kind of life lived in those celestial tidal pools so far from us.

Love gives you wings. Icarus and the Challenger both had wings, and so did my first love letter, after I folded it up and flung it at my crush.


Cirocco liked space, reading, and sex, not necessarily in that order. She had never been able to satisfactorily combine all three, but two was not bad.

What we call 'time' isn't chronological but spatial; what we call 'death' is merely a transition between different kinds of matter.

Atheism is a lack of belief...what about the powers of darkness, and that of light, will you trace both to nothing? Then you must have created yourself.

That these people are wandering around, looking for aliens to justify the emptiness inside them and let them feel special without effort, creeps me out.

By some tear in the wish fabric, or the casting of a prayer, or the falling of some lonely star, the enchanted garden was not lost to me, but lost in me.