What you hope for, you also fear.

Expecting anything, living frugally in surprise.

Laughter isn't even the other side of tears. It is tears turned inside out. Truly the suffering is great, here on earth. We blunder along, shredded by our mistakes, bludgeoned by our faults. Not having a clue where the dark path leads us. But on the whole, we stumble along bravely, don't you think?

There's an ecstatic side to writing. It's like jazz. It just has a life.

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.

It must become a right of every person to die of old age. And if we secure this right for ourselves, we can, coincidentally, assure it for the planet.

Our mothers and grandmothers ... moving to music not yet written.