I watched them, thinking that little girls who make their mothers live grow up to be such powerful women.

But when it comes to writing the thing that I've sort of been thinking about lately, is why? You know, is it rational? Is it logical that anybody should be expected to be afraid of the work that they feel they were put on this Earth to do.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake.

If you're alive, you're a creative person.

I am burdened with what the Buddhists call the monkey mind. The thoughts that swing from limb to limb, stopping only to scratch themselves, spit and howl. My mind swings wildly through time, touching on dozens of ideas a minute, unharnessed and undisciplined. You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.

I never wanted to be the person that waited for a stranger to come to town - I wanted to be the stranger!

Your father only has one foot on this earth. And really, really long legs . . .