Of course I am an idealist. In ideas is immortality, for they are immortal.

Of course I am outspoken, for nothing stillborn has a chance at immortality, and words, spoken and otherwise, are the birth of ideas.

Of course I am a skeptic, for many of the words that needs saying are questions.

Of course I am agnostic, for answer are support, not proof.

Paradox: Humanity’s potential for good is the only thing in which I have any faith, but yet nothing tries that faith more than humans.

It is, upon reflection, an altogether logical sort of paradox. The object of faith should lead the believer to doubt, for that which stands up to doubt is the stronger for it, and that which does not, in all likelihood not worth believing.

History passes in cycles. In the short term – historically speaking, in tens and hundreds of years – this is a sign of hope. In the long term, the geologic term in which thousands of years are as a moment, it means we are destined for extinction. In the scale of things, we have had a long reign.

Life passes in cycles, too, so is death, whether personally or in our species’ long term, truly hopeless? I do not believe it is.

People are fascinating.

Mornings, aesthetically speaking, are beautiful; they are not my thing, but they do not have to be, to be lovely.

Bones are lovely too, connotations aside.

Try this; look at a thing, or part of a thing, for itself. Beauty is everywhere.

And if one does not sleep at all on the third day of the week, one can spend all of what the calendar says is Thursday wholeheartedly insisting that it is Wednesday.

Also: Draw people with mohawks. Draw zombies with mohawks. Draw marmosets with mohawks.