As the birds fly over the ocean to find breeding ground, we need to manage our own feathers so that we can take flight when things become of such a nature that we cannot breathe.

Living is a dangerous sport only some can successfully master, but we all have the opportunity to become stars in the show of our own making.

Contemplation can be detrimental to your own sanity. The mind conjures up demons that not even spirituality can destroy. Content-solitude, that is, being-at-home with oneself, can destroy the creations of the mind without destroying yourself in the process.

When we climbed the proverbial-philosophical ladder (of which Sextus Empiricus and Ludwig Wittgenstein talked) we need to kick it away. When the body gets sick, and we use medication to help us, the drugs get flushed away afterward (per Sextus Empiricus). So also we need to dispel time to get from one place to another. But we hold onto the past, we cannot kick away the past-ladder, the body (read: mind) cannot get rid of the history-medicine. We are forever doomed to hold onto time-that-has-gone-by.

As the past cannot be dispelled, so we cannot dispell of memories which latch onto the past. But memories are sometimes sweet.

Facing our problems straight on can be so difficult. But the victory, and the sweet memory of that victory, is a battle many would die for.

Happiness is such a fickle desire. A state of constant flux, happiness is everything we desire, yet it is in essence nothing.

As the morning sun shines, so also the nightly moon cast a shadow of doubt behind us as we become quiet.

We must dance in the delight of the morning sun.

Life, like happiness, can at once be nothing. For the moments in which we can breathe (and taste the sweetness), we need to look forward and dance and dance and act like tomorrow will never arrive. Because once tomorrow arrives, yesterday will only faintly taste of that sweet victory.