There is no such thing as being done with an artistic life. Frustrations and rewards exist at all levels on the path.

As a writer, I find holidays often disturbing, not liberating, in their disruption of tempo, their open-ended time.

I am breathing in and out. Realizing this, I began to notice that each moment was not without its beauty.

In recovering from our creative blocks, it is necessary to go gently and slowly... These are baby steps. Progress, not perfection, is what we should be asking of ourselves.

The reward for attention is always healing.

Creativity is our true nature; blocks are an unnatural thwarting of a process at once as normal and as miraculous as the blossoming of a flower at the end of a slender green stem.

A career must be husbanded. Care must be taken. Everyday must bring some small bit of progress. How would an artist with any self-worth act? Act that way.