When I die, nobody is going to care what I did with my life.
They’re not going to care about the achievements I was once so proud of. They’re not going to remember the talent that once impressed me so much about myself. Nobody is going to know or care what my IQ was.
The only thing people will remember about me — if they remember anything at all — is how I’ve made them feel. The only way I’m going to matter to others is if I’ve somehow shown genuine love to them or helped them find meaning in their own lives.
I’ve recently realized that I’ve had it all wrong for a long time. I’ve been letting my ego get in the way of being the person I need to be. I understand how that happened — and I’ll tell you about that in a minute — but the bottom line is that I’ve been chasing the wrong things.
I’ve wanted to be a star. I’ve wanted to be important. I craved the feeling of mattering to others, so I’ve unconsciously pursued a kind of success that would matter only to the wounded heart of my hidden inner child.

Confirmation bias means most of us assume our opponents are ‘morans’
They’re just images of past love, but I can’t make them go away
Moral priorities: ‘If we free the slaves, who will pick the cotton?’
The egalitarian lie: Every group has leaders, even Occupy Wall Street
The right woman in a man’s life brings out the best he has to give
Christmas marks God’s attempt to connect us to himself and others
After chimp’s mother died, mama dog raised baby as one of her pups
It’s best to focus on future, ’cause dead past is a ‘bridge to nowhere’
Briefly: Sufjan Stevens album always evokes old feelings about my mother