My wife used to fart when she was nervous. She had all sorts of wonderful idiosyncrasies. You know what? She used to fart in her sleep. Sorry I shared that with you. One night it was so loud it woke the dog up. She woke up and goes like, “Oh was that you?” I’d say yeah. I didn’t have the heart to tell her. She’s been dead two years and that’s the shit I remember. Wonderful stuff, you know, little things like that. Those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That’s what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me, too; she knew all my little peccadillos. People call these things imperfections, but they’re not, aw, that’s the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let in to our weird little worlds. You’re not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense. This girl you met, she isn’t perfect either. But the question is: whether or not you’re perfect for each other. That’s the whole deal. That’s what intimacy is all about. Now you can know everything in the world, sport, but the only way you’re findin’ out that one is by givin’ it a shot.
There’s an end to every storm. Once all the trees have been uprooted, once all the houses have been ripped apart, the wind will hush. The clouds will part. The rain will stop. The sky will clear in an instant. And only then, in those quiet moments after the storm, do we learn who was strong enough to survive it.
take a moment to realize you have never seen your face in person, just reflections and pictures
some scientists agree that if you saw a clone of yourself, you wouldn’t recognise it as you, because our idea of what we look like is so different from what we actually look like