My dear, The world is a classroom: everyone’s here trying to get better. No one’s here because they want to suck. No one’s here because they want to come in last place, miles behind everyone else. … Remember that when you criticizing someone because they failed. Remember that they didn’t want to. Falsely yours, Frank...

My dear, Why does the writer write but to escape the hell within her by grabbing a hold of it and thrashing it about the pages? Why does the painter paint but to keep his nightmares at bay by giving form to them with every stroke of his brush? Why does the inventor invent if not for her need to create something that makes the hell of a world she lives in a little more bearable? No one has ever written, painted, sculpted, modeled, built, or...

My dear, Why not try peace for a change? If later we learn that war is better, we can go back to fighting. Back to hating for hating’s sake, back to smiting those we envy, back to diminishing those who carry the world proudly because they carry the world proudly. I don’t know if peace is better, it might just be the most horrible thing ever theorized, but let’s just try it for a bit – we can go back to stabbing each...

My dear, I don’t know what to do today, help me decide. Should I cut myself open and pour my heart on these pages? Or should I sit here and do nothing, nobody’s asking anything of me afterall. Should I jump off the cliff that has my heart beating so and develop my wings on the way down? Or should I step back from the edge, and let the others deal with this thing called courage. Should I stare back at the existential abyss that...

My dear, A gentleman is a man smart enough to know that fighting solves nothing, yet cruel enough to know that once fighting starts the offender must be dealt with with the harshest of blows. A gentleman is a man who finds peace within himself in peacetime, and again finds peace in wartime. A gentleman is simply a patient wolf. A gentleman is a warrior, dormant. He is dangerous and powerful, he has no need to prove that to you, to society,...

My dear, It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation. What does the imitator learn from his success but how to be a thief of ideas? A pillager of other men’s creations? A beggar? A parasite? A leech of the worst kind? What does the being who failed in originality learn but how to better himself tomorrow? Falsely yours, Herman...

My dear, Judging by the amount of shit it throws at people, life is a monkey. In fact, life is dozen monkeys. And we’re all animal trainers, slowly learning every day how to better coax the monkeys into throwing less shit our way… Some days we succeed, most days we fail. But look on the bright-side, we have monkeys! Falsely yours, Pax...

My dear, Those who live by the sword, die by the sword. Those who live by the hype die by the hype. And those who live by day-to-day hard work non-stop for years on end, die by day-to-day hard work non-stop for years on end. …Those who live by hard work rarely die, few are those willing to put in the same calibre of work to defeat them. Falsely yours, C....

My dear, You speak about ideas I don’t believe in, you’re passionate about things I don’t find all that interesting, and sometimes I find everything you say to be a test of my nerves. … But I’ll never force you to simmer down, or go behind your back and ask the government to ban you from uttering things I don’t agree with. I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say...

My dear, Is success in life related to how long you can go without screw-ups? No. Is it measured by the days you feel most energetic? Nope. Success in life is directly proportional to the number of awkward conversations you’re willing to have. Anyone can swim through the calm waters of a terrific conversations, but only the elite (or the crazy, hard to differentiate the two) look at the trashing oceans of an awkward conversation and jump...