Her hand touched me at the wrist. "If I gave you my life, you would drop it. Wouldn't you?" I didn't say anything.

I love the performance of a craft, whether it is modest or mean-spirited, yet I walk away when discussions of it begin - as if one should ask a gravedigger what brand of shovel he uses or whether he prefers to work at noon or in moonlight. I am interested only in the care taken, and those secret rehearsals behind it. Even if I do not understand fully what is taking place.

Jung was absolutely right about one thing. We are occupied by gods. The mistake is to identify with the god occupying you.

We keep wanting to save those who are forlorn in this world. It’s a male habit.

It doubles your perception, to write from the point of view of someone you're not.

The one of the great sadnesses of any life is knowing what you know now and then remembering what you did not know then.

Meanwhile with the help of an anecdote I fell in love. Words caravaggio. They have a power.