Ten times a day something happens to me like this - some strengthening throb of amazement - some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.

If I've done my work well, I vanish completely from the scene. I believe it is invasive of the work when you know too much about the writer.

I have a notebook with me all the time, and I begin scribbling a few words. When things are going well, the walk does not get anywhere; I finally just stop and write.

When will you have a little pity for every soft thing that walks through the world, yourself included.

I held my breath as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us.

Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)

There is a notion that creative people are absent-minded, reckless, heedless of social customs and obligations. It is, hopefully, true for they are in another world altogether.