Certainty is missing the point entirely.

I am going to notice the lights of the earth, the sun and the moon and the stars, the lights of our candles as we march, the lights with which spring teases us, the light that is already present.

The whistle is always waiting to be blown, and in some ways, it gets me to do better work.

We are not here to see through one another, but to see one another through.

... everyone has come to understand that unconditional love is a reality, but with as shelf life of about eight to ten seconds. [p. 110]

Publication is not all that it is cracked up to be. But writing is.

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