One of the most terrifying things I fear is not my potential, but how much regret I’ll die with should I never use it.

We think that boxes take everything that’s bad and they lock all that nasty stuff out, when in reality they take everything that we are and they lock all of those great things in.

We tend to deny our humanity because in accepting the fullness of it, we would need to confess how little we’ve done with it.

What in the world would ever lead to me believe that life is a series of opportunities that are readily available to everyone else but me? What really leads me to believe such an atrocious lie is that I don’t believe in myself sufficiently to engage those opportunities in the first place.

Be absolutely assured that we will die long before our own deaths if we ever allow the fear of adulthood to kill the wonder of childhood.

If I had any hand in it at all there’s a chance that it might be beautiful, but it simply cannot not be majestic.