During my drinking decades, I lived like a pig. My room was a hazardous pile of stilettos, tube tops, wine bottles, ashtrays, and old magazines. I valued nothing. Everything that came into my life was disposable: clothes, opportunities, people. My bedroom looked as if my insides had spilled out onto the floor.

I think when your heart hurts this much it means you opened it wide once- and that is something to be proud of.

There are only two lives we might live: our dream or our destiny. Sometimes they are one in the same, and sometimes they're not. Often our dreams are just a path to our destinies.

If our goal is to be tolerant of people who are different than we are, then we really are aiming quite low. Traffic jams are to be tolerated. People are to be celebrated.

If you feel something calling you to dance or write or paint or sing, please refuse to worry about whether you're good enough . Just do it. Be generous. Offer a gift to the world no one else can offer : yourself.

Don't let yourself become so concerned with raising a good kid that you forget you already have one.

I still get very high and very low in life. Daily. But I've finally accepted the fact that sensitive is just how I was made, that I don't have to hide it and I don't have to fix it. I'm not broken.