My way of writing a book is completely disorganized - to hurl myself at the problem, over and over.

Our disasters have been some of the best things that ever happened to us. And what we swore were blessings have been some of the worst.

Languages are fluffy big pillows stuffed between nations - what others say is muffled and nearly lost in them, and when we speak their grammar we get feathers in our mouth. It's worth it. What pleasure to phrase an idea, even in child's words, slowly, and sail it across the gulf in another language to a different-speaking human being!

There’s no disaster that can’t become a blessing, and no blessing that can’t become a disaster.

How can a deer tell when a leaf falls silent in the forest? She hears it breathing differently.

No matter how qualified or deserving we are, we will never reach a better life until we can imagine it for ourselves and allow ourselves to have it.

Just be who you are, calm and clear and bright. Automatically, as we shine who we are, asking ourselves every minute is this what I really want to do, doing it only when we answer yes, automatically that turns away those who have nothing to learn from who we are and attracts those who do, and from whom we have to learn, as well.