The truth is that progress is usually small and sneaky.

I don't remember who said this, but there really are places in the heart you don't even know exist until you love a child.

I spend most of my time alone, because I so value and thrive in the quiet. Heaven.

I pray not to be such a whiny, self-obsessed baby, and give thanks that I am not quite as bad as I used to be (talk about miracles). Then something comes up, and I overreact and blame and sulk, and it feels like I haven't made any progress at all. But it turns out I'm less of a brat than before, and I hit the reset button much sooner, shake it off, and get my sense if humor back.

Now, if you ask me, what’s going on is that we’re all up to here in it, and probably the most important thing is that we not yell at one another.

Some people won't go the extra mile, and then on their birthday, when no one makes a fuss, they feel neglected and bitter.

To be engrossed by something outside ourselves is a powerful antidote for the rational mind, the mind that so frequently has its head up its own ass.