He judged the instant and let go; he flung himself loose into the stars.

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.

A shepherd on a hilltop who looks at a mess of stars and thinks, ‘There’s a hunter, a plow, a fish,’ is making mental connections that have as much real force in the universe as the very fires in those stars themselves.

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.

The courage of children and beasts is a function of innocence.

You can serve or you can sing, and wreck your heart in prayer, working the world's hard work.

The sensation of writing a book is the sensation of spinning, blinded by love and daring.