I read the way a person might swim, to save his or her life. I wrote that way too.

To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.

And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away from wherever you are, to look for your soul?

What can we do about God, who makes and then breaks every god-forsaken, beautiful day?

Every adjective and adverb is worth five cents. Every verb is worth fifty cents.

Today again I am hardly myself. It happens over and over.

I took one look and fell, hook and tumble.