I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.

I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and the dragons of home under one's skin, at the extreme corners of one's eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.

On Saturday afternoons when all the things are done in the house and there's no real work to be done, I play Bach and Chopin and turn it up real loudly and get a good bottle of chardonnay and sit out on my deck and look out at the garden.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown, but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The Holy Spirit upon my left leads my feet without ceasing into the camp of the righteous and into the tents of the free.

I'm a descendant of someone bought and sold, and brought in 1619 in what was to become the United States.

Life loves to be taken by the lapel and told: 'I'm with you kid. Let's go.'