I honestly think that in order to be a writer you have to learn to be reverent. If not, why are you writing? Why are you here?

A hundred years from now? All new people.

When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it sometimes floats forth and opens like one of those fluted Japanese blossoms, flimsy and spastic, bright and warm. This almost always seems to happen in community.

I went to Goucher College in Maryland for the best possible reasons - to learn - but then I dropped out at 19 for the best possible reasons - to become a writer.

Or you might shout at the top of your lungs or whisper into your sleeve, "I hate you, God." That is a prayer too, because it is real, it is truth, and maybe it is the first sincere thought you've had in months.

I never had a particularly strong craving to procreate, except for earlier fantasies of wanting to be Marmee in Little Women.

'Help' is a prayer that is always answered.