It was terrible when a single conversation with someone determined your whole future relationship.

I think the job of writing and literature is to encourage each one of us to believe that we're living in a story.

I Still Have Everything You Gave Me It is dusty on the edges. It is slightly rotten. I guard it without thinking. I focus on it once a year when I shake it out in the wind. I do not ache. I would not trade.

When allowed to return to the class, your feelings of humility and lonesomeness will render you a much finer student and person.

Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth.

Mystery: Everything felt better before you got there than when you actually got there. When you actually got there, you didn't quite have the energy to be there.

maybe we try too hard to be remembered, waking to the glowing yellow disc in ignorance, swearing that today will be the day, today we will make something of our lives. what if we are so busy searching for worth that we miss the sapphire sky and cackling blackbird. what else is missing? maybe our steps are too straight and our paths too narrow and not overlapping. maybe when they overlap someone in another country lights a candle, a couple resolves their argument, a young man puts down his silver gun and walks away.