[Poem: Slates of Grey]

Sullen faces like slates of grey—
What I’d seen on a walk today.

Bodies rushing bodies bolting
Time for life a disregarding.

Money to make and to grow old
What about the hands to hold?

Deadlines, projects, people to meet
What about our own two feet.

Sullen faces like slates of grey...
What I’d see most anyday.

I'm going to enjoy every second, and I'm going to know I'm enjoying it while I'm enjoying it. Most people don't live; they just race. They are trying to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through; and then the first thing they know, they are old and worn out, and it doesn't make any difference whether they've reached the goal or not.

[Cities] are not like suburbs, only denser. They differ from towns and suburbs in basic ways, and one of these is that cities are, by definition, full of strangers.

The words marriage and divorce were always used together, like they went hand in hand together.

The trouble with being in the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat.

لكن دعني أخبرك بشيء مهم ,لا تقض حياتك بإنتظار أن تنتهي الفترة كذا و الفترة كذا ..
أن تنتهي فترة الدراسة .. أن تنتهي فترة التجنيد الإجباري .. أن تنتهي فترة انتدابك في كينيا .. إلخ
لسوف تجد أن حياتك صارت مجموعة من الفترات يجب أن تنتهي و هوب! تكتشف أنك بلغت نهاية العمر ولما تنعم بحياتك يوما واحدا ..
يجب أن تستمتع بكل فترة كأنها هي الصورة الوحيدة النهائية لحياتك ..