I love my mother, not as a prisoner of atherosclerosis, but as a person; and I must love her enough to accept her as she is, now, for as long as this dwindling may take.

Love isn't how you feel. It's what you do.

Wherever she was, holy laughter was present to heal and redeem.

I do not know everything; still many things I understand.

I think that all artists, regardless of degree of talent, are a painful, paradoxical combination of certainty and uncertainty, of arrogance and humility, constantly in need of reassurance, and yet with a stubborn streak of faith in their own validity no matter what.

Wild nights are my glory!

I am not some kind of computer. Only machines have glib answers for everything.