What you plan is too small for you to live.

Anything that does not bring you alive is too small for you.

We are the only species on earth capable of preventing our own flowering.

The moment you’ve uttered the exact dimensionality of your exile, you’re already turning towards home.

When I recite poems onstage, I put myself into the very personal struggle and it grants tremendous perspective. At the same time you get another perspective on the poem you're reciting.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation. The kettle is singing even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots have left their arrogant aloofness and seen the good in you at last. All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

A real conversation always contains an invitation. You are inviting another person to reveal herself or himself to you, to tell you who they are or what they want.