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.

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 was what they call a 'highly functional addict.' ... sometimes people who need help look nothing like people who need help.

The only meaningful thing we can offer one another is love. Not advice, not questions about our choices, not suggestions for the future, just love.

It is a decision that compassion is more important than fear, than fitting in, than following the crowd.

A good day is a good day. A bad day is a good story.

You are not a mess. You are a feely person in a messy world.