Grief is the frozen moment when you pat your pocket for your keys, the pocket where you always put your keys, and your keys aren’t there. The intensely familiar is gone—not just a person, but a habit. Gone. When I do this, that happens. When I say this, you answer. When I reach for you, there you are. And then I am reaching, and nothing, nothing is there. The true has become false.
—Sallie Tisdale
A story (Green)
These men...don't care who gets hurt because they're telling themselves a story in which they're the hero. I've listened to that story too many times to see anything in it but vanity.
Hank Green, A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor
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