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The moment that any life, however good, stifles you, you may be sure it isn't your real life.
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I think vestigially there's a synesthete in me, but not like a real one who immediately knows what colour Wednesday is.
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Dude, what matters is if you're happy. What matters is your future. What matters is that we get out of here in one piece. What matters is finding the truth of our own lives, not caring about what other people think is the truth of us.
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The joy of all mysteries is the certainty which comes from their contemplation, that there are many doors yet for the soul to open on her upward and inward way.
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Joy and growth come from following our deepest impulses, however foolish they may seem to some, or dangerous, and even though the apparent outcome may be defeat.
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It would no doubt be very sentimental to argue - but I would argue it nevertheless - that the peculiar combination of joy and sadness in bell music - both of clock chimes, and of change-ringing - is very typical of England. It is of a piece with the irony in which English people habitually address one another.
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Deceit is the false road to happiness; and all the joys we travel through to vice, like fairy banquets, vanish when we touch them.
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My friends and I were wild and we liked to joy-ride.
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When I saw the plane, I was absolutely astonished! Two emotions crashed over me: surging joy and crazy fear.
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The only lifestyle I'm promoting is the lifestyle of love and friendship. The lifestyle of music, and joy, and fashion. So whoever wants to come and get part of that lifestyle, we accept anybody.
