Grace arrived, like the big, loopy stitches with which a grandmotherly stranger might baste your hem temporarily.

Laughter is the key that grace has arrived.

It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what's keeping things running right. We're bugs struggling in the river, brightly visible to the trout below. With that fact in mind, people like me make up all these rules to give us the illusion that we are in charge. I need to say to myself, they're not needed, hon. Just take in the buggy pleasures. Be kind to the others, grab the fleck of riverweed, notice how beautifully your bug legs scull.

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

Rest and laughter are the most spiritual and subversive acts of all. Laugh, rest, slow down.

I wish there were shortcuts to wisdom and self-knowledge: cuter abysses or three-day spa wilderness experiences. Sadly, it doesn't work that way. I so resent this.

I don't have very sophisticated taste in music. I listen to a lot of folk music. I like reggae.