A parent is a pattern; a child is an observant.

You can tell all the fads, they usually wear plaids.

We live redundantly; we die resignedly.

Love drapes us in strands, hate in stripes.

Life’s patterns death march us to a common grave.

Life’s a fine mosaic, but upclose it looks prosaic.

Evil is a copycat.

It’s one thing after another with your father and your mother.

Act, eat, rest, play — the rhythms of the everyday.

A marriage is a kiss, followed by the repeated hiss of bliss.

When heart and soul and mind align, this is sublime.

If your road is blocked with a pattern, run over it with a risk.

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