not sure if that had anything to do with anything.

If love were a color, I think it would be blue.

How many people, do you think, are afraid to laugh a lot because they eventually stop laughing?

Did you know that America is unique in that it has a dream? I never thought about it before, but you don't hear about the British dream, or the Norwegian dream, or the Filipino dream. How did we get a dream? Who started it? Did it exist before the Depression? I think, for some reason, that it began around that time. It's just a feeling, but I bet it did. It's good to have a dream. White picket fence, all that jazz. Actually, the dream is not the house, it's the chance.

I'm watching a Jack Johnson concert. So good. Like a black and white photograph and a hammock and the memory of friends all mixed up in a chipped blue mug.

Bad things happen, and good things happen too. Sometimes we get a crack or a chip in the knocking about of humanity. It's rocky. It happens. But don't be afraid to laugh or dream, it's how we get those memories and photographs and it's the reason the blue of the sky makes us want to lie in a hammock, just to look up at it.

Don't make the mistake of running away from reality, it's so beautiful to face things. Happy things and gut wrenching things. Awkward things. Feel it out to the end. Then walk back over to the hammock, lie down, and while you're looking up and the blue blue sky, remember that an apple tree is still an apple tree when there is no fruit on the branches.