I couldn't unpeach the peaches.

The life of sensation is the life of greed; it requires more and more. The life of the spirit requires less and less.

It's a little silly to finally learn how to write at this age. But I long ago realized I was secretly sincere.

I write in my own journal when something extraordinary or funny happens. And there's some nice imagery in there. I don't think of what to do with it.

Make connections; let rip; and dance where you can.

Experiencing the present purely is being empty and hollow; you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall.

What I call innocence is the spirit's unself-conscious state at any moment of pure devotion to any object. It is at once a receptiveness and total concentration.