Art opens the closets, airs out the cellars and attics. It brings healing.

Any little bit of experimenting in self-nurturance is very frightening for most of us.

Rather than being taught to ask ourselves who we are, we are schooled to ask others. We are, in effect, trained to listen to others’ versions of ourselves.

Because if you're trying to write and you have unlimited time, you can procrastinate an unlimited account, but if you have limited time, you rush to the page trying to get something down in the little bit of fragment of time that you have, and you may write a great deal that way.

Your mood doesn't really matter. Some of the best creative work gets done on the days when you feel that everything you're doing is just plain junk.

I am what I am again: a writer. I have metabolized the injury into art.

Our moods and insights are transitory. This current is a flow of grace moving us to our right livelihood, companions, destiny.