Don't wait for the muse. She has a lousy work ethic. Writers just write.
This is how moths speak to each other. They tell their love across the fields by scent. There is no mouth, the wrong words are impossible, either a mate is there or he is not, and if so the pair will find each other in the dark.
There's always more to a story than a body can see from the fenceline.
Value is not made of money, but a tender balance of expectation and longing.
Honk if you love Jesus, text while driving if you want to meet up.
Mistakes wreck your life. But they make what you have. It's kind of all one. You know what Hester told me when we were working the sheep one time? She said it's no good to complain about your flock, because it's the put-together of all your past choices.