I live in expectation of an idea; I foresee it, close in upon it, get a grip, but it escapes me, does not yet belong to me. How can I express it?
Tadpoles, tapenade, tequila, testicle, tinfoil, tiramisu, tomatoes, torpedoes, tuxedos, turbines, Twinkies, and Typhoid.
About 10% of our happiness is due to our circumstances. Our age, race, gender, personal history, and wealth, only make up about one-tenth of our happiness.
All truths are against us, but we go on living because we accept them in themselves, because we refuse to draw the consequences.
I’m done reading news. They are all bad and depressing and make the world complain and react ceaselessly.