Very few writers really know what they are doing until they have done it.

Feeding a baby is like filling a hole with putty - you get it in and then you sort of shave off all the excess around the hole and get it back in, like you're spackling.

Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past.

Your unconscious can't work when you are breathing down its neck.

Life is like a recycling center, where all the concerns and dramas of humankind get recycled back and forth across the universe. But what you have to offer is your own sensibility, maybe your own sense of humor or insider pathos or meaning. All of us can sing the same song, and there will still be four billion different renditions.

Because this business of becoming conscious, of being a writer, is ultimately about asking yourself, How alive am I willing to be?

...most of the time, all you have is the moment, and the imperfect love of the people around you.