It is not by lying still in the dark and letting himself be gnawed that a man finds rest; but by watching over himself, and bravely bearing the strokes of existence.

The true paradox of consciousness is that the more we know of ourselves, the more we become strangers to ourselves; for knowledge itself is a kind of forgetting—we lose the immediate simplicity of mere being in the complications of understanding what we are.

The true paradox of consciousness is that the more narrowly we examine it, the more it seems to elude us, as if consciousness were not an object to be grasped but a field in which the grasping occurs.

The true paradox of consciousness is that the more we think about it directly, the more it eludes us; yet in the very act of eluding our grasp, it reveals itself most fully.

We are dying from overthinking. We are slowly killing ourselves by drowning in our thoughts. We confuse ourselves as we think in circles, going nowhere—all the while forgetting that we are only ever just one step away from making a choice that could change the direction of our lives.

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Lay It Down

Take this moment to decide if we meant it, if we tried, or felt around for far too much from things that accidentally touched.

The mind is like a vast library in which the books are in constant flux—some volumes fade into obscurity while others suddenly illuminate corners previously left in shadow, and the librarian himself is often the last to know what treasures or horrors his collection contains.