A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.

Always throw salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender for luck. And fall in love, whenever you can.

If you are writing any book about the end of the world, what you are really writing about is what’s worth saving about it.

The rage you feel? Listen to me carefully. It’s a gift. Use it, but don’t let anyone see it.

When you stand at the crossroads, you are standing in the realization that you have a serious choice to make. On the left hand, there is a grinding storm of pain and terror, of blind, drunk passions and wonderful imagination and ideas. That is the way of death, though if you were to go that way, you would find yourself very much alive. On the other hand, the right hand, there is a great, mysterious freedom, something you cannot even begin to gaze upon, and which offers no clean assurances. That is the way of life, though if you were to go that way it might mean the death of everything you’ve known, cherished and loved.
There’s no middle ground. It’s a true crossroads, a fork in the road, a fork in your mind. The Master is there, standing there, waiting for you to choose. He has a golden stang, blazing with light, and he gazes at you with two faces. One face looks to life, the other to death. What will you do? Who are you? What are you? The question and the choice isn’t going to go away

How someone reacts to your sadness says a lot about how long they’re going to be in your life.