Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist's true friend.

I worry that Jesus drinks himself to sleep when he hears me talk like this.

I am learning slowly to bring my crazy pinball-machine mind back to this place.

I wish there were shortcuts to wisdom and self-knowledge: cuter abysses or three-day spa wilderness experiences. Sadly, it doesn't work that way. I so resent this.

A writer paradoxically seeks the truth and tells lies every step of the way.

Toddlers can make you feel as if you have violated some archaic law in their personal Koran and you should die, infidel.

I love readings and my readers, but the din of voices of the audience gives me stage fright, and the din of voices inside whisper that I am a fraud, and that the jig is up. Surely someone will rise up from the audience and say out loud that not only am I not funny and helpful, but I'm annoying, and a phony.