I wake up on my stomach and sprawled across my entire bed. I pull myself to the right edge of the bed. I think "you have never gotten out of bed on that side; that is not the way to start the morning." Superstition is not my thing. I change course and continue my morning like any other. God tricks me. By not getting up on the wrong side of the bed
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I sit and think all day and it is doing me no good. Without responsibilities, I am supposed to be relaxed. Instead, I am consistently on edge. I am worried sick, but I hope that it is all in my head.
The Brothers Karamazov has the potential to dethrone One Hundred Years of Solitude as the best book I have ever read.
Destroy a man's belief in immortality and not only will his ability to love wither away within him but, along with it, the force that impels him to continue his existence on earth.