But it's morning. Within my hands is another day. Another day to listen and love and walk and glory. I am here for another day.

Just when I think I have learned the way to live, life changes and I am left the same. The more things change the more I am the same. I am what I started with, and when it is all over I will be all that is left of me.

I can't be found in myself; I discover myself in others. That much is clear. And I suspect that I also love and care for myself in others.

To live for results would be to sentence myself to continuous frustration. My only sure reward is in my actions and not from them.

Perfectionism is slow death.

Every moment that I am centered in the future I suffer a temporary loss of this life.

My prayer is: I will be what I will be, I will do what I will do.