Why do I write? The truth, the unvarnished truth, is that I haven't a clue.

I don't believe that life is supposed to make you feel good, or to make you feel miserable either. Life is just supposed to make you feel.

It's as if I've arrived in a place where it's all spirit and no body -- an overwhelming sense of calm . . . I actually began to feel blessed.

Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go... And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.

Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.

a star dies in heaven every time you snatch away someone's dream.

She could walk through a lightning storm without being touched; grab a bolt of lightning in the palm of her hand; use the heat of lightning to start the kindling going under her medicine pot. She turned the moon into salve, the stars into swaddling cloth, and healed the wounds of every creature walking up on two or down on four.