If you want to feel alive I will hit you too, but you have to ask for it.

..and you open the door and you step inside — we're inside our hearts. Now imagine your pain is a white ball of healing light. That's right, your pain, the pain itself, is a white ball of healing light.

This is your life, good to the last drop. Doesn't get any better than this. This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.

This isn't a seminar and this isn't a weekend retreat. Where you are now you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like.

Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything.

Nothing is static.
Everything is appalling.
Everything is falling apart.

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all a part of the same compost heap.
We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

You are not your bank account.
You are not the clothes you wear.
You are not the contents of your wallet.
You are not your bowel cancer.
You are not your grande latte.
You are not the car you drive.
You are not your fucking khakis.

You have to give up.

You have to realize that someday you will die, until you know that you are useless.

I say, let me never be complete.
I say, may I never be content.
I say, deliver me from Swedish furniture.
I say, deliver me from clever art.
I say, deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth.
I say, you have to give up.
I say, evolve and let the chips fall where they may.

I want you to hit me as hard as you can.