Writing has been my window-flung wide open to this magnificent, chaotic existence-my way of interpreting everything within my grasp.

Our teachers are everywhere. Our teachers are right in front of us, and take so many forms. All we need to do is to open our eyes, to be open to and aware of the possibilities. Otherwise, we walk sightless among miracles.

I don't know why this is, but I really believe that things don't happen when we're trying to will them into being. They don't happen when we're waiting for the phone to ring, or the email to pop up in our in box. They don't happen when we're gripping too tightly. They happen - if they happen at all - when we've fully let go of the results. And, perhaps, when we're ready.

Confidence is highly overrated when it comes to creating literature. A writer who is overly confident will not engage in the struggle to get it exactly right on the page - but rather, will assume that she's getting it right without the struggle.

Michael Lowenthal has written a big-hearted and wise book about familial love in all its richness and complexity.

Everything I know about life I learned from the daily practice of sitting down to write.

I've always felt like my nose is pressed to glass. I always feel a little bit like an outsider.