Soon enough it will be me struggling (valiantly?) to walk - lugging my stuff around. How are we all so brave as to take step after step? Day after day? How are we so optimistic, so careful not to trip and yet do trip, and then get up and say O.K. Why do I feel so sorry for everyone and so proud?

What protects you in this world from sadness and from the loss of an ability to do something? ... Work and love.

I still do have the little lunch bag that my mother made out of a towel and embroidered with my name on it for when I went to kindergarten.

I like Thomas Jefferson, though he intimidated me. I thought he would have been very tough to be around. I don't know if he had such a sense of humor.

It's almost impossible to reconcile the realities of how one feels during the day, hour by hour. But I approach things not cynically.

My short attention span has allowed me a life of diversity in work and place.

I have many questions, but no patience to think them through.