Does anybody learn writing, or do they just touch someone who lets them see the power of the deleted word?

Were we, also, hiking along some cosmic journal page? Were the events about us all part of a message we could understand, if only we found the right perspective from which to read them? Somehow, with our long series of miracles, I thought so.

True enjoy stories never ever have endings.

You are life, inventing form. No more can you die on sword or years than you can die on doorways through which you walk, one room into another. Every room gives its word for you to speak, every passage its song for you to sing.

You are led through your lifetime by the inner learning creature, the playful spiritual being that is your real self.

One challenge of our adventure on earth is to rise above dead systems...wars, nations, destructions...to refuse to be a part of them, and express the highest selves we know how to be.

Any powerful idea is absolutely fascinating and absolutely useless until we choose to use it.