My dear, You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist. And do not ask for an outsider’s opinion. Their opinion on matters is just that, opinion. We’re each bias by just being. We each see the world through our life experiences. We each wear glasses of different sizes and shape and tinting; permanently glued to our vision. Think of the right and only way as an...

My dear, Believe me, you will not be happy there, in your cave. You will not find the wonders of life in the barren grimness of a self-induced comatose. For believe me! — the secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is: to live dangerously! Build your cities on the slopes of Vesuvius! Send your ships into uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves! Be robbers and conquerors...

My dear, The music played, And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music. And tragic it’ll be when the dancers stop dancing to that beautiful music. And thus we must never stop dancing, ever. Even if we be called insane. (And if you think I’m just speaking about dancing when I speak about dancing, then you have misunderstood me. Read again.) Falsely yours, Friedrich Wilhelm...

My dear, Who do you think’s up there in heaven? All the goody two shoes don’t you think. All the ones that followed the rules, did what they were told, and never sinned a day in there life. Pity. In Heaven, all the interesting people are missing. The ones who died with regrets, with blood-stained hands, with heavy hearts and minds, and with tragedy in their soul and fire in their eyes – now those are the interesting...

My dear, From the moment you’re born ’til the moment you die you’re fighting. Your fighting against a society that cares nothing for you, against parents that want to make you into them, against odds that are stacked against you, and against all the people that lost their dreams and now want to see you lose yours. And the fighting is not easy. To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering. And...

My dear, He who fights with evil must take care lest he thereby becomes evil in the process. Do not let what you fight take you down a level. Stand above them, and take care to not get consumed by the heat of emotion; for it will drag you down. He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. The fight you fight is both an outer and inner...

My dear, It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages. When spouses stop being friends they stop having a happy marriage. It is not the lack of sex that leads to the lack of friendship. Quiet the contrary, it’s the lack of friendship that leads to the lack of sex… and eventually of love. Falsely yours, Friedrich Wilhelm...

My dear, He who would learn to fly one day must learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying. By this I mean that whether you aim high or not, you must go through the steps and milestones one at a time. You cannot just do something great. Start small and build up. All great deeds are built on smaller deeds done well. Falsely yours, Friedrich Wilhelm...

My dear, Life is a dance. It’s filled with twists and turns, and sometimes you step of people’s feet (sometimes they step on yours). So what more can one wish for than to be a good dancer? What more can one wish for than to be someone who can hear the subtle music and rhythm of it all and be happy? What more can one wish for than to be someone who gracefully maneuvers through it all? What more can one wish for than to be a...

My dear, Being an individual is one of life’s eternal hardships. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and always (always) frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself in full and knowing you’re your own being. See, although the wild coyote is a lonely being, a constantly hungry self-thinking being, it lives longer than the farmer’s sheep. Falsely yours, Friedrich Wilhelm...