The secret is not to write about what you love best, but about what you, alone, love at all.

why did I have to keep learning this same thing over and over?

Why do we people in churches seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute?

Why do you never find anything written about that idiosyncratic thought you advert to, about your fascination with something no one else understands? Because it is up to you. There is something you find interesting, for a reason hard to explain. It is hard to explain because you have never read it on any page; there you begin. You were made and set here to give voice to this, your own astonishment.

No one can help you if you're stuck in a work. Only you can figure a way out, because only you can see the work's possibilities.

Theirs is the mystery of continuous creation and all that providence implies: the uncertainty of vision, the horror of the fixed, the dissolution of the present, the intricacy of beauty, the pressure of fecundity, the elusiveness of the free, and the flawed nature of perfection.

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.