You just have to keep getting out of your own way so that whatever it is that wants to be written can use you to write it.

I was raised by my parents to believe that you had a moral obligation to try and help save the world.

When we agree to being part of something bigger than our own wired, fixated minds, we are saved.

You can either practice being right or practice being kind.

There is nothing as sweet as a comeback, when you are down and out, about to lose, and out of time.

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?

Now. Maybe you think it is arrogant or self centered, or ridiculous for me to believe that God bothered to wiggle a cheap bolt out of my new used car because he or she needed to keep me away for a few days until just the moment when my old friend most needed me to help her mother move into whatever comes next. Maybe nothing conscious helped to stall me so that I would be there when I could be most useful. Or maybe it did. I’ll never know for sure. And anyway, it doesn’t really matter.