Love itself is not an act of will, but sometimes I need the force of my volition to break with my habitual responses and pass along the love already here.

Perfectionism is slow death.

When someone disagrees with me, I do not have to immediately start revising what I just said. People don't want me to always agree with them. They can sense this is phony. They can sense I am trying to control them: I am agreeing with them to make them like me. They feel; "I don't want to exist to like you. I DON'T exist to like you."

Letting go is freedom. When you find yourself in a useless battle, you merely walk off the battlefield.

When we persist in looking for and finding what there is to value within our self, we discover a pure and loving being.

Books seek us out. They slip themselves into our hands just at the time we are ready for a new self-concept.

We become what we look at most.