By the time I was done with the car it looked worse than any typical Indian car that has been driven all its life on reservation roads, which they always say are like government promises - full of holes.

I was in love with the whole world and all that lived in its rainy arms.

I think one of the reasons to be here on earth is to finally be who we are, at all times - to know and be predictable to ourselves.

Every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence. We are aware.

Right and wrong were shades of meaning, not sides of a coin.

Old love, middle love, the kind of love that knows itself and knows that nothing lasts, is a desperate shared wildness.

To love another another human in all of her splendor and imperfect perfection , it is a magnificent task...tremendous and foolish and human.