Then, at once, evening became night. Sometimes there is no warning. Things occur in seconds. Everything changes. You’re alive. You’re dead. And things move on. We are paper thin. We exist on luck amid the percentages, temporarily. And that’s the best part and the worse part, the temporal factor. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You can sit on top of a mountain and meditate for decades and it’s not going to alter. You can alter yourself into acceptability but maybe that’s wrong too. Maybe we think too much. Feel more, think less.
― Charles Bukowski